
ClassTP A^ 

PRESENTED BY 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL 



ROBERT HAMILL NASSAU 

AUTHOR OF 

"Crowned in Palm-Land" 

" M awe do" 

"Fetishism in West Africa" 

and 

" Corisco Days" 



PHILADELPHIA 

ALLEN, LANE & SCOTT 

PRINTERS AND PUBLISHERS 
1911 






. 



•AY-i: 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



PART I. 

THE SCHOOL; ITS LOCATION; AND ITS 
TEACHERS. 



PART II. 
IN THE SCHOOL: THE SCHOOL-GIRLS. 



Tale 1, The breaking-in of a New Pupil 22 

2, Little Fags 27 

3, A Day's Doings, 1st Half 35 

4, A Day's Doings, 2d Half 43 

5, Rules and Black Marks 48 

6, School Promenades 56 

7, Vacations 61 

8, The Seven Re-Captives 70 

9, A Little Fag's Experience 79 

10, Friendships and Pastimes 87 

11, Quarrels and Fightings 92 

12, Pranks 96 

13, "Bird's-Claws," a Black Sheep of the 
Flock 106 



PAGE 

Tale 14, Esonge Climbs out of the Window 109 

" 15, Agnes Breaks the Switches 113 

" 16, Wasted Privileges 116 

" 17, Fando Runs Away 125 

18, Njivo Bites the Teacher 130 

11 19, Onanga, An Unexpected Treasure 138 



PART III. 

IN THE CHURCH. 

Kabinda : An Ignoble Life 144 



PART I. 

THE SCHOOL; ITS LOCATION, AND 
ITS TEACHERS. 

ONLY a few miles north of the Equator, on the 
South- West Coast of Africa, a river emerges 
into the South Atlantic Ocean. It is not a long 
stream; not more than one hundred and fifty miles in 
length. But it has many affluents; some that join it in 
the Sierra del Crystal range of mountains, where itself 
finds its source, and others that join it lower down on 
both its banks, as it flows westward and finally northward 
into the sea. 

It is not a wide stream, until, as it comes in sight of 
the sea thirty miles distant, it suddenly flings itself 
out on either side, like a man throwing open his cloak, 
making a Bay or Estuary, spreading until at its mouth 
it is twelve miles in width. 

Its native is Ma-kwe-nge. But the early Portuguese 
traders, as they entered its broad mouth, imagined its 
"cloak" -like expanse, and called it "Gabon." English 
people pronounced the word, "Gaboon." That was the 
name by which it was known, for a hundred years, to 
foreigners, the river itself, the tribe which dwelt on its 
banks, and the region of country for fifty miles each 
side of it. When, sixty years ago, traders spoke of going 
to "Gaboon," they meant anywhere within fifty miles 
of that river. The French word for a man of the tribe 
is "Gabonais" (female Gabonaise) . But the tribe called 

(5) 



6 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

itself "Mpo-ngwe." Ordinary sea-captains could not 
pronounce that word; they miscalled it "Pongo." Also, 
they called the entire region the Pongo country, for a 
hundred and fifty miles northward. A legend of the Bube 
tribe, inhabiting Fernando-Po island, states that they 
were driven to that island for refuge by their enemies, 
the Mpongwe, who had formerly extended that far 
north, long before the tribes called "Benga," "Kombe," 
"Banaka" and others had emerged from the interior 
on to the Coast, at points respectively forty, ninety 
and a hundred and sixty miles north of Makwenge river. 

This river, like all rivers emerging on the south-west 
coast of Africa, empties itself northward. In whatever 
direction they come from the interior, on approaching 
the coast, they turn northward, not entering the sea at 
a right angle to the land, but at quite an obtuse angle 
on their right bank. The cause of this is the constant 
north-flowing ocean-current, which, as it meets the water 
of the rivers, (all of which bear quantities of sand and 
mud), makes a quiet eddy on the west or left bank, in 
which the sand is deposited. This deposit grows, year 
by year, causing shallow shoals, and finally a long 
Point of land. The force of the rivers' current is thus 
thrown toward the right bank. So, on these streams, 
the land on the east or right bank, has its earth torn away 
and bare rocks stand out ; while, on the west or left bank, 
the long low sandy Point grows yearly longer. Vessels, 
in coming from the south, therefore, can not see the 
river's mouth, until they have really passed it; then 
they turn, and, looking down into the mouth, sail 
southward into it. 

The rocky Point on the Gaboon river's right bank is 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 7 

called by English people Point Clara; by the French, 
Joinville. The low Point on the left bank is called by 
English, " Sandy Point." Natives called it "Ompomo- 
wa-igara" (Point-of-the-outside) , because, a traveler 
who is coming down river, and who wishes to turn 
southward, comes apparently to several points, each 
of which at first seems to mark the ocean, before he 
finally reaches the "outside" or farthest one. Most 
foreigners who cannot speak Mpongwe, when they 
heard those words" 'mpom' igara" pronounced rapidly, 
thought they sounded like one word "Pongara." That 
is the name they marked on their charts. 

The distance between the two Capes or Points, on the 
river-mouth, is as much as twelve miles. The Bay, on 
soundings, is entirely free from rocks; and the channel 
is so well marked by two or three buoys, which in- 
dicate the only sand-bars, that no pilot is needed; the 
depth of water is enough for vessels of any draft; and 
the harbor is large enough for any number of vessels to 
anchor on good sand or mud bottom. Being land- 
locked, even the frequent, sudden and severe storms of 
a tropical country do not raise heavy waves in the Bay. 
There is never any uncomfortable surf, through which 
to land. 

On the western side of the Bay, the land is low. A 
sandy prairie comes down to Pongara Point. The prairie 
itself is dotted, in its many slight depressions, by 
"islands" of trees, and by small ponds; in which are 
caught, during the long Cold Dry Season (June-Sep- 
tember) when the ponds are low, a great quantity of 
fish, some kinds of which are known to crawl, at spawn- 
ing times, over the stretch of prairie-land lying between 



5 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

river and pond. During the two Rainy Seasons (Oc- 
tober-December, and March-May) when the grass has 
sprung up young and tender, after it has been burned 
over, in the two Dry Seasons, viz. the short Hot Dry 
(January and February), and the long Cold Dry, the 
prairie affords fine hunting of wild oxen, wild hogs, ga- 
zelles, antelopes, and even elephants. 

Farther up stream, still on that western side, the land 
slowly rises, covered by a heavy forest, and is very much 
intersected by inland water-ways lined with mangrove 
swamps. On the edges of this forest are many villages, 
formerly of the Shekyani, but now of the Mpongwe tribe ; 
and large plantations with hamlets of their slaves who 
cultivate their farms ; raising, for their own consumption 
and for sale to the white residents at the Trading-Houses 
on the other side of the river, quantities of plantains, 
yams, and other vegetables. There also are the best 
fishing-grounds of the river; whence daily, fresh fish are 
carried to the market across the Bay. 

That western side is called "King William's side," 
from the English name of a deservedly honored native 
King Rapantyamba. The French called him "Roi 
Denis." He had a town of hundreds of retainers, at a 
place on the prairie called "St. Thome" (from the 
Portuguese island of St. Thomas, distant at sea about 
two hundred miles). Though a heathen, and entirely 
uneducated, he was a man of great intelligence, and of 
naturally noble character. His son Adande, who in- 
herited his name Rapantyamba and title Roi Denis, is 
a well-educated and civilized gentleman, speaking English 
and French; is a nominal Romanist, adhering to the 
native customs connected with Polygamy, and practicing 
some of the divinations of Fetishism. 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 9 

After a course of fifteen miles up the Bay, steamers 
come to anchor a mile from the shore of the town of 
Libreville. There had been a town there, certainly for 
the last two hundred years, known as "Gaboon." But, 
when the French seized that region in 1843, they called 
it "Libreville," intending that, like the city of Freetown 
in Sierra Leone, it should be a port of deposit for re- 
captured slaves. The town looks beautifully from the 
deck of an anchored vessel. The Bay curves eastward, 
making a bight, of a chord of some three miles across. 
The town is built on the curve of the arc. A well-ma- 
cadamized road, called the Boulevard, wide enough for 
two vehicles to pass (were there any vehicles) runs for 
four miles on that arc. At long intervals, there are a few 
cross streets. No attempt is made at grading or paving 
them. Barely are they kept clean of grass and weeds, 
by spasmodic efforts, every few months to keep down 
the rampant vegetation. Some of these streets are 
shaded by avenues of coco-palms with their gracefully 
waving, feathery fronds, or by densely foliaged mangoe 
trees; from whose over-ripe fruit the Roman Catholic 
missionaries have made a brandy; which, however, has 
not obtained wide acceptance, due to the peculiar turpen- 
tine-like taste of the mangoe. 

On the long Boulevard are built the scattered houses 
of the town. At the upper end, called by the natives, 
Lamba, and by the foreigners, Glass (after the English 
name of a former old King " Glass") the native dwellings 
are the densest. And there, formerly, were congregated 
on the beach almost all the foreign Trading-Houses, two 
English, two German, and one American. 

Thence, a mile farther down, were a few more Trading- 



10 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

Houses, including only one French, and the small French 
Government Building, on an elevated area called the 
Plateau. 

And, two miles beyond is the native village Anwondo. 
At the Lamba end of Libreville, a few hundred yards 
back from the beach, runs with a gentle ascent a ridge, 
which follows, at that distance, most of the curve of the 
Boulevard. At the extreme Lamba end, the ridge rises 
gradually to a small hill, on which, in the old days of the 
Slave Trade, was an enclosure for slaves, called in Por- 
tuguese, a barracoon. Natives, in trying to pronounce 
this word, called it "Ba-ra-ka." It was a depot for 
slaves gathered, from time to time, from various interior 
tribes, and detained in the enclosure on that Hill awaiting 
the coming of some slave-ship. 

Domestic slavery had been practiced, from time 
immemorial, by all the tribes of the entire African con- 
tinent, as a punishment for crime. Criminals, even 
those condemned to death, had, sometimes, their sen- 
tences commuted to sale into slavery. Vicious and 
otherwise troublesome members of the family were 
sometimes thus disposed of. Persons charged with the 
universal crime of Witchcraft, if not promptly killed, 
were sure thus to be sold away. Pitiably, useless 
persons, — the idiotic and the deformed, — were thus 
gotten rid of. None of all these were retained in 
slavery in their own tribe. They might have had even 
there some sympathisers, and therefore would have 
become refractory. The sale was always made to the 
tribe next adjacent sea-ward. If there they were found 
useful and docile, they were well-treated. If refractory, 
they were sold away again to the next nearer seashore 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 11 

tribe. This process went on, so that those who finally 
reached the sea-coast were the very worst specimens. 
It was from them that the first cargoes were made up 
for Brazil and the West Indies. Subsequently, as the 
market was stimulated, and the demands by white men 
grew for a larger supply, the cupidity of the native 
"Kings" was aroused, and the strong tribes raided the 
weaker ones, seizing prisoners of men, women and children 
to fill the slave-market. 

Pawning of their children for debt was early known 
to the poorer members of the tribes. Debts grew, and 
the pawns were rarely redeemed; they were sold away. 

Frequently children were kidnaped. Salt, in the old 
days, before white traders imported it, was as valuable 
as gold. Except for the salt-" pans" and springs of the 
far interior, the only source of obtaining it was by 
evaporating the sea-water. This was the monopoly of 
the coast -tribes. Their emissaries, carrying little packets 
of salt, would intentionally drop them temptingly at 
points along interior paths of travel or near springs, and 
then hide themselves in ambush. Some child coming to 
the spring, would snatch up the treasure: and then 
would be seized by the tempters, and carried away, on 
a charge of theft. 

When in June, 1842, Rev. J. L. Wilson transferred a 
Mission of the A. B. C. F. M. from Cape Palmas, Li- 
beria, to the Gaboon River, he bought from the native 
"Kings" or Chiefs that Baraka Hill. One of those 
chiefs was named Ntaka. Being an unusually intelli- 
gent and truthful man, the white men had called him 
"the true man." He adopted those words as his sur- 
name, "Truman." His descendants have retained it. 



12 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

One of them became a minister in the Mission, Rev. 
Ntaka Truman. Old King Ntaka always wore a high 
silk or beaver hat, such as the Traders brought from 
Liverpool damaged auction sales, with the cast-off liv- 
eries of the servants of English nobility. These were given 
as presents to the native men of prominence, being 
regarded by them as signs of dignity of the greatest 
value. Indeed, from Ntaka' s constant use of those old 
high hats the white traders called them "Epokolo ya 
Toko" (the Taka hat). But those white men were not 
philologists. They constantly got native names mispro- 
nounced; and their mis-spelling is continued by long 
use even to-day, by men who now know better. Those 
Traders miscalled him "Toko." One of them put up a 
grave-stone for him in the Baraka Cemetery, on which 
the mis-spelling is perpetuated. 

So also, two affluents of the Gaboon River are mis- 
spelled. The Rembwe is mis-called "Ramway;" and 
the Nkama is mis-called "Komo" or Como. 

The buildings of the Mission occupy the site of that 
slave barracoon. There grows there now a large, hand- 
some bread-fruit tree, planted by Mr. Wilson on the 
very spot where was standing a native forest tree used 
as a whipping-post for cases of any slaves who became 
refractory while they were in confinement awaiting their 
exportation. 

The view from that Baraka hill-top is the finest in 
Libreville. Look up the river to several large islands 
ten or fifteen miles distant. One of them is Parrot 
island, a home of hundreds of the grey red-tailed African 
parrot; another is King's island. The long-ago old 
Dutch Trading Company named it on their chart 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 13 

"Koenig." They had a fort there. And still to-day, a 
few old rusty cannon are there. 

Looking across the estuary, at different lines of vision, 
twenty, fifteen, and ten miles distant, a mangrove swamp 
shows how, in the centuries, that side of the river has 
been built up by the mud brought down the stream. 
The tide runs up for about seventy miles, and comes 
back with a strong current. Out over the bar, to the 
west and north, is a magnificent sea- view. Steamers 
are visible long before they actually arrive at anchor. 

Most of the native forest trees have been cleared 
away in the proximity of the beach. But their place is 
occupied by a jungle of flowering shrubs and vines, on the 
edges of patches of elevated open land; behind which, a 
half-mile from the sea, is the solid edge of the great 
African Forest that covers a parallelogram of eight hun- 
dred miles interior by three hundred miles of the coast 
of the African Equatorial belt. In it are elephants, wild- 
oxen, wild hogs, leopards, a number of species of ante- 
lopes and gazelles, a great variety of chimpanzees, 
monkeys, and birds, and smaller animals. In the jungle 
are snakes, and those horrible caricatures of human 
beings, the gorillas. And, in the rivers, are the huge 
hippopotamus, crocodiles of the gavial species, the 
delicious manatus or dugong, and a variety of fish. 
The early Portuguese Roman Catholic, and later the 
English Protestant, missionaries brought foreign seeds 
and plants. So, besides its own indigenous tropical 
fruits, the entire region is well supplied with other fruits, 
introduced from Brazil and the West Indies. 

France had very little interest in her possessions in the 
Gaboon region, for a long while after her seizure of that 



14 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

country in 1843. The dominant influence in Trade and 
Religion was English. But, when Count P. S. De- 
Brazza, about 1874, revealed the value of the Ogowe 
river as an avenue to the Kongo interior, France asserted 
herself, successively, by an active government of the 
natives, by the fostering of a Roman Catholic Mission, 
by the granting of special favor to French Trading-houses, 
by the prohibition of the use of the English language 
(and finally the requisition of the French language) in 
School and public documents. The American Trading- 
house was abandoned ; some of the English and German 
traders withdrew; French firms were largely increased; 
the machinery of Government was made more prominent 
in the number and size of Official Buildings, the increase 
of Officers, and the red-tape of Regulations. Govern- 
ment-House, Hospital, Post-office, Custom-house, Treas- 
ury, Telegraph, Repair-shops, Cathedral, etc., were all 
centered around their original single building on the old 
Plateau area. The French Trading-houses gathered 
there. And, at the present time, that spot is the real 
Libreville. "Glass" is very much reduced in its popu- 
lation ; and its importance is almost gone, except for the 
presence of one English Trading-house, and the Prot- 
estant Mission on Baraka hill. 

All those French additions are the new things of the 
present. These School-girl Tales come from the times 
and conditions of a generation ago, between the years 
1850 and 1880. The missionaries named or referred to 
by these former school-girls, lived there during those 
years. Only one of them, Mrs. Bushnell, is living to-day, 
in the United States. After Mr. Wilson had examined 
the Gaboon region, and selected and bought the Baraka 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 15 

hill in June, 1842, he wrote word to his associates in the 
A. B. C. F. M. Cape Palmas Mission, that he considered 
Gaboon a more healthy country than Liberia, and 
directed them to abandon Cape Palmas. They did so, 
and an American Episcopal Mission occupied their place. 
And in December, 1842, Rev. Wm. Walker removed to 
Gaboon; in June, 1843, he was followed by Rev. Albert 
Bushnell; and he subsequently by Rev. I. M. Preston 
from America. There were many other missionaries, 
male and female, lay and clerical, married and single, 
who followed during the years 1845-1885. Some of 
them died: Others, for various reasons, — ill-health, dis- 
satisfaction, incompetency, the belief (at that time) that 
white maternity in tropical Africa was almost necessarily 
fatal, the great fear (at that time) for the lives of white 
infants, — returned to the United States. But the entire 
work in School, Church and Station, at Baraka during 
the forty years, 1842-1882, can be covered by the four 
names Wilson, Walker, Preston and Bushnell. During 
all those years, excepting occasional intervals of only a 
few months, some one of those four, or their wives, was 
present and in charge. If one or two of them happened 
to be absent on furlough in the United States, at least 
one of the others remained in charge, assisted by some 
two or three of the many transient ones of shorter stay 
whose names I have not here mentioned. 

Of those four, Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were the first to 
retire from the Mission. He became the Rev. J. Leighton 
Wilson, D.D., Secretary of the Board of Foreign Mis- 
sions of the Presbyterian Church in the United States 
(North) ; and, after 1861, Secretary of the similar Board 
of the Presbyterian Church (South). They are now 



16 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

dead. The next to leave were Rev. Ira M. and Mrs. 
Preston. They lived for several years retired in ill- 
health in Ohio; are now dead. Mr. Bushnell became the 
Rev. Albert Bushnell, D.D. He died of pneumonia, on 
the African steamer, as it was entering Freetown harbor, 
Sierra Leone, in 1879; was buried there; and subse- 
quently was re-interred at Baraka. His widow re- 
mained in the Misssion until she finally retired about 
1883. Mr. and Mrs. Walker retired from the Mission 
(as he supposed) finally, in April, 1871. He was aged; 
he thought he had reached the end of his ability to 
serve: he was a hearty Congregationalist ; and, his 
A. B. C. F. M. Society having given up its Gaboon mis- 
sion-field to the Presbyterian Church of the adjacent 
Corisco Mission, he was not willing to transfer his eccle- 
siastical connection. He retired with the respect and 
love of most of the natives, who, though he was often 
severe, believed in his paternal sincerity, and were im- 
pressed by the strength of his rugged mind. Even the 
white foreign community, against the dissolute lives of 
some of whom, he had been denunciatory almost to the 
point of exasperation, respected his vigorous intellect- 
uality and fearlessness. They made up a complimentary 
purse as a present for his declining years. He left behind 
him at that time an honored and revered name. Mrs. 
Walker died in the United States. Nine years after his 
leaving the Mission, an emergency occurred. The force 
at Baraka was very weak; no one was at all equal to 
Mr. Walker in knowledge of the Mpongwe language; it 
was desired that the translation of the Bible should be 
completed ; he was in an unexpectedly comfortable state 
of health; and the Presbyterian Board asked him to 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 17 

return to Africa, for a limited period, for the sole purpose 
of translating the Scriptures. There were others in the 
Mission who could attend to the Church, the School, and 
the Station secular work. 

In making this request of Mr. Walker, the Presbyter- 
ian Board did him the unprecedented honor of not asking 
him to join, even pro forma, the Presbyterian Church, as 
is invariably their custom, when any one applies to be 
sent out under their direction. Under that rule there 
have been members of the Mission, men and women who 
had formerly held their connection with Methodist, 
Baptist, Congregational, Lutheran and other evangeli- 
cal denominations. In consideration of Mr. Walker's 
age and former eminent service, and the fact that the 
proposition for renewed service had not come from him, 
the Board most considerately said nothing about de- 
nominational connection. Nor was there any need to do 
so. As a Congregationalist he could translate the Bible 
as efficiently as if he was nominally a member of any 
other evangelical Christian body. And, it was not the 
expectation that he would have any other function 
than that of a Translator. (Though, as he came ac- 
credited as a full member of the Mission, he had a right 
to all its privileges; and might, probably, be elected to 
some of its offices.) But he was not a member of the 
ecclesiastical Body, the Corisco Presbytery, except by the 
courtesy of corresponding membership. And therefore, 
though, by request, occupying the Gaboon church pulpit, 
he had no authority over its Session. He returned to the 
U. S. when his Translation work was completed. And 
died a few years later. 



18 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

Almost all the missionaries, male and female, of the 
transient ones, and the female assistant teachers in the 
Girls' School, are remembered kindly by those girls. 
Every man or woman, connected with any School any 
where, has some foible in character or manner, on which 
pupils seize, and which, among themselves in private, 
they mimic or laugh at. It was so with these unnamed 
missionaries. But the mimicry or the joke was not in- 
tended by the school-girls as disrespect toward those 
whom they loved. They loved almost all. They have 
named to me but two or three, of the many who were 
there during those forty years, whom they disrespected; 
and only one lady whom they learned to hate, because 
of her tactless and unjust dealings. 

In the following tales, the word "Mistress" or "Ma" 
used by the narrators, means always either Mrs. Bushnell, 
Mrs. Walker or Mrs. Preston. "Teacher" means the 
(generally) unmarried female white assistant to the one 
of those three ladies who happened to be in charge. 
There were other assistants, native females, whom I 
call monitors. 

In the region are many tribes of the Negro stock called 
Bantu; stock that covers the entire southern third of 
the African continent below the fourth degree of north 
latitude. Many of these tribes are small in number. 
Some counting only a few thousands. But, for all that 
they are small, and without any real central native 
government, they are exceedingly clannish, clinging 
tenaciously to the small differences that separate them 
from adjacent tribes. This clannishness often made 
difficulty in the Schools, the "upper" tribes, formerly, 
being unwilling that their children should be taught in 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 19 

the company of members of what they called lower 
tribes. This question of precedence rested on two factors, 
viz. priority of emergence on to the Coast; and the prox- 
imity to foreign white Trading-houses. The tribes on 
the Coast, having originally a monopoly of the Ivory and 
Rubber Trade, allowed neither foreign traders to go into 
the interior, nor the interior tribes to emerge onto the 
sea-side. (That monopoly is now broken.) 

Of the dialects of Bantu spoken by all these tribes, 
while they all had the same grammatical construction, 
they differed more or less in their vocabulary. Indeed 
these differences in some dialects were so great that 
they could not be understood by some of the other 
tribes. It was found in reducing these dialects to writ- 
ing, that they could be grouped into three lists, 1st. The 
Mpongwe of Gaboon. Cognate with it were the lan- 
guages of tribes to the south, the Nkami, Orungu, 
Ajumba, Inenga, and Galwa of the Ogowe Delta. 2nd. 
Northward, the Benga of Corisco Island and Bay. Cog- 
nate with it were the Mbiko, Bapuku, Kombe, Banaka, 
and Bakele. 3rd. Interior- ward was the great Fang 
tribe, with its divisions of Osheba, Bulu, and others. 

These, though living in the same general region, with 
one climate, differed much in their customs, dress, and 
food. Some tribes chose to live mostly on the plantain; 
others on cassava (the tuber of tapioca) ; others on the 
eddo (a calladium) ; others on ground-nuts. But all 
cultivated all these and other vegetables also. It was 
remarkable that tribes thus breathing the same air, 
eating much the same food, and intermarrying, yet 
kept their tribal physical characteristics. The Mpongwe 
people were tall, gracefully fashioned, polite and hand- 



20 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

some. The Benga were tall, strongly and roughly built, 
and their men of a fierce look. The Kombe were smaller 
in stature. The Banaka of medium stature, and their 
features coarse. So marked were these differences, that, 
even where there were no tribal tattooings, it was pos- 
sible for me to tell what was a stranger's tribe, at first 
sight, without always being able to indicate to any one 
else just what were the points of feature, manner, etc., 
etc., on which I had made my diagnosis. 

As to social status, the Mpongwe reckoned themselves 
superior to all the adjacent northern coast tribes. It 
was utterly forbidden that a Mpongwe woman should 
descend by marriage to any man of those tribes, however 
worthy he personally might be. But Mpongwe men, 
by marrying women of these ''lower" tribes, elevated 
them (as they considered). With some hesitation, a 
Mpongwe woman could marry an Orungu or Nkami or 
other southern-coast man. Next in precedence were 
the Benga. After them, the shades in social status were 
marked with only slight gradations. Always, however, 
remembering that no interior tribes-man could marry 
any coast-tribe woman. All interior tribes were con- 
temptuously called "bush-men." 

These Tales were told me by three of the former 
school-girls (two of whom are now dead), when 
themselves were grandmothers, and members of the 
church. I wrote them from their lips; and, in compiling 
them, I have generally retained their pronominal first 
person. My interjected remarks are in brackets. 

What I have written myself is gathered authori- 
tatively from Church Records, or from my own personal 
knowledge, or from the direct and positive statement 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 21 

of the native involved in the case. I have taken nothing 
at vague hear-say or second-hand information. 

Mission Reports are written every year from their 
Stations, Schools and Churches; and extracts are 
printed by their Home Boards for information of friends 
of the cause. Those extracts are true, interesting, and 
instructive. But they are incomplete. They represent 
the foreign workers' point of view. They are like the 
official circular of the principal of any institution in 
America. But, if a visitor could privately meet the 
pupils in that institution, he might be given another 
report — the pupil's point of view. 

So, these Tales give an aspect of occurrences in 
Church and School not usually presented in missionary 
letters. That the occurrences were actual I know, from 
my own observation, or from the testimony of Christian 
witnesses. 



PART II. 
IN THE SCHOOL. 



Tale, No. 1. 
The Breaking In of a New Pupil. 

IN our school-days, whenever a new pupil came, the 
other girls would welcome her with the usual salu- 
tation, "Mbolo" (Long life to you!) Then they 
would begin to judge concerning her, to decide on the 
place where she should stand in the company; looking 
at her height; her size, her bearing, and her manners 
and ways; by these, to judge of her whether she was 
weak-spirited or stronghearted. Then those who were 
of the same height as she, would say, "She belongs to 
our set; she is nkona (equal) with us." Then some 
of the troublesome ones of that set would say, "No! we 
can't tell that yet, whether she belongs to our group or 
not." This meant that she would have to do a lot of 
fighting before she gained her own place. She then 
would be left for a time by herself, with only two or 
three to pay her any attention as friends. 

The next thing was to begin to tease her, so as to 
know what her temper was, whether weak or strong, 
in order to start up a quarrel, which would grow into a 
fight. If the new girl was strong enough to conquer 
the first one who should fight with her, or at least proved 
to be equal in strength, then they would begin to say, 

(22) 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 23 

"O! may-be she is all right; and she belongs to our 
nkona." After that first fight and her nkona was settled, 
the others of that same nkona would say, "She must 
now fight each one of us in succession. " One of their 
number would say, "I take the first chance!" And 
so it would go on. If, after that first fight, they saw that 
she was brave, and had fought it out well, the rest of 
the nkona would try her, not in anger nor to strike to 
hurt, but to ndemb'-opa (wrestle) in a friendly contest, 
or in running a race. Thus she soon fights out her place, 
and is fully accepted in their company or nkona. But, 
if she was not successful in her first fight, she feels troubled 
and is ashamed. Then all the others will take advantage 
of her, and torment her all the time, in many small mean 
ways. For example, thus: — "What do you look at me 
for in such a cross way?" "Why do you bring your 
body against mine in passing, as if you want to push 
me?" "Why do you tread on my toe?" "Why do 
you step on my dress while I'm sitting down? Did your 
father and mother give it to you?" 

These and other charges would be made, of which the 
new girl was entirely innocent. So, she would deny, 
and say, "I did not!" The other one, "You did! You 
did!" "I did not! noka (You are telling a lie)." The 
other one says, "How dare you say I tell a lie? If you 
say anything back to me, then I will pull off this my dress, 
and tear it in pieces, and put them down at your feet, 
and you will go to your father and mother, and bring 
me another in its place." The new girl would say, "If 
you tear your dress yourself, you will have to lose it. 
And why do you mention the names of my father and 
mother? I won't allow it. If you do, I will mention 



24 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

your mother." [This is one of the commonest of insults.] 
Then the other one would say, "Yes! we'll see about 
that." [This in order to force a fight.] Then the new 
girl, thus challenged, if she was not afraid, would say, 
"Yes! we'll have our fight! I mention your mother's 
name." [Equivalent to "taking a name in vain."] Then 
she would click her tongue, as a sign of insult for the 
other's mother. The other would click in return. And 
they would click back and forth, saying, "This is for 
your mother! " [The click is made by bending the tip 
of the tongue, pressing it heavily against the roof of the 
mouth, and then suddenly forcing the tongue toward 
the back of the mouth. A clucking sound is thus pro- 
duced.] Then soon the fighting begins. If the new girl 
is not strong to fight, and is defeated, and she sees she 
is not able to stand up with those whom she thought 
were her own nkona, then she feels lonely; and she her- 
self will choose to associate with the next smaller class, 
not her own nkona. 

Then, sometimes, those smaller ones, seeing she is alone, 
instead of accepting her, will say, " See! she is not strong; 
if we unite, we can pull her down!" But, sometimes, if 
she has spunk, she will not submit to that, and will her- 
self begin a quarrel by beating down the smaller ones. 
If she does that, then she will be left entirely to herself. 
Seeing this, she will try to pick out one from the company 
of her own size of those who had defeated her, and ask 
her to be her friend. Then that one will accept her, 
and will try to help her, and show her ways to do in order 
to please the others. After awhile, when she knows 
more girls, and learns about their ways, and no longer 
feels herself a stranger, then she is able to join in their 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 25 

play with those of her nkona, by aid of this friend. 
Then others will begin to take her as an associate, and 
she is allowed to join in their plays; she, in return, tells 
them stories about her home, and teaches them new 
songs of her village. Then she will begin to feel quite 
at home. And she will tell her friend, when they are 
alone together, that the reason she was defeated at first 
by those of her nkona, was because she felt her lone- 
liness and newness, " So, I think we better try over again 
by ndemb'-opa (wrestling), and see again what my 
strength is." So, the others will say, "All right! " Then, 
they will begin that practice every day, just after school. 
Usually, she would gain in the contest, being made 
stronger-hearted by her new friend. And the others 
will begin to offer peace; but she does not quite forget 
what was done to her at the first, especially by those who 
had been really cruel to her in the beginning. She will 
say, "I haven't forgotten yet! " Then those others will 
say, "But you were a stranger then; and we did not 
know you were nice ; and now we have made it up ; and 
we like you; and we are your friends." And some of 
them who had been worst will privately to her give 
excuse, "As for myself, I was willing to be your friend 
from the very first; but I had to go along with the 
others. For, if I had not treated you as I did, they would 
have said I was afraid of you." 

Sometimes, when two or three happened to come to 
join the school together, then they would not have so 
much trouble, they would not be interfered with, and 
soon they would be left unmolested. Sometimes, if the 
new comer looked strong and stout, some of the others 
would say, "She looks as if she is strong to fight. I 



26 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

wonder if she is able to knock us down?" So, they 
would hesitate to annoy her. 

These contests were the way in which friendships were 
settled, or enmities were made. The enemies, if they 
did not keep on fighting, would have nkoma (not on 
speaking terms). There would be some small quarrel 
about taking the other's pepper or other small article 
of food. Then, they would not speak to each other, — 
nor, when sitting on the same bench, allow their dresses 
to touch, — nor take hold together of the same reading- 
book in school, nor have anything to do with each other. 
But they would finiza ngdkd (take revenge) about every 
little thing in which they could give offense or annoyance. 



tales out of school. 27 

Tale, No. 2. 
Little Fags . 

THERE was a ntyali (custom) when new pupils 
came, especially for the small ones. Our mis- 
tress would tell us which, of the "big girls," 
was to take care of the new little one; or, if several 
new small ones came at the same time, then the care 
of them was divided. That made each of the first 
Class of large girls to have five or six little ones for 
whom to care. The second Class would have a less 
number. The third Class would have, each of them, 
one. And the fourth Class had no care of any others; 
only to take care of themselves. All beyond these four 
Classes were "the small girls," to be taken care of. 

Sometimes, when the new children came, instead of the 
teacher deciding which one of the first Class should take 
charge of them, some one of the older girls would take a 
fancy to one of these new ones, and would say, "I'll take 
this one!" 

But, sometimes, there would come a child whom no 
one desired to have. Then the Mistress had to compel 
some one to take her. Sometimes the new ones would 
really like the seniors to whom they were assigned, and 
would call them their "young mothers." The older ones 
would show partiality to the younger who were assigned 
to them, if they liked them; but would neglect them, if 
they had been compelled to take them. 

As, in school, everything had to go by rule, the "big 
girls" were required to see that their little ones were 
washed or given a good bath a certain number of times 



28 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

a week ; and were to fix their hair ; either (as need might 
be) to shave, or to comb, or to braid into masala (chig- 
nons), a certain number of times each week. They 
were also to see about their clothing; sewing, washing, 
ironing and mending for them. 

While, at the same time, those younger ones were 
taught to do a little sewing and other outside work. 
Whenever the "big" girls took a fancy to their small 
ones, things went on very well. The young ones would 
be very much attached to the older ones, just as if they 
were their sisters or "young mothers." They would 
help their big ones, by doing small works and errands 
for them. And the big one, when she fixed the hair of 
the young one to whom she had taken a fancy, would 
fuss over the hair a long time, to make it look as nice as 
possible. Also, in giving their favorites a bath, they 
would wash them carefully all over, examining the in- 
side of their ears and other parts of their body, and all 
over their skin, so that they should catch no eruption 
or other skin disease. Because it was part of their duty 
to care for the little ones if they were sick, and report 
to the teacher any case of sickness. They desired, 
therefore, to prevent sickness. 

But, when there came to them a child whom they did 
not like, then things went on very hard. The little one 
was in a pitiable situation. When it came time for the 
Saturday washing or bath, instead of her being called 
kindly to strip herself, as they all, each big girl with her 
little one, stood ready about a large tub, she would be 
rudely pulled by the arm, and bidden curtly, "Yogo! 
savuna!" (Come! wash!) After the lonely child had 
herself taken off her dress, and her body had been ridi- 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 29 

culed, she would stand for a minute or so near the tub 
waiting for farther direction. Then comes a push: 
"Why don't you get in?" And then the big girl would 
throw a little water up over her, and say, "Now! wash 
yourself! Do you think I'm going to rub you with my 
hands ? ' ' Then the child would try to wash herself ; which 
means that she will be only half washed, with no one to 
look carefully in the folds of skin behind her ears and 
on her back. After the washing, there is another test, 
when it comes to changing clothing, and putting on 
clean clothes. They all go to the other house for clean 
dresses to be given out by the teacher, who will examine 
each little body to see whether it is cleaned. There 
the dirty ears and legs will be revealed. Then the ques- 
tion is asked of the child, "Who washed you?" She 
is in a strait, whether she tells the truth or whether she 
prevaricates. She tells the truth, "Mie me" (my own 
self). Then a rebuke will come on the elder girl, and 
a command to go and wash her "child" again. This 
the big girl would dislike, murmuring, "I have to go 
and wash this child whom I dislike! " Then the big 
girl and her little one will go off to do the washing again. 
As soon as they get out of sight away from the dwelling- 
house, the big one would take her revenge, pushing, 
striking and reviling the little one, saying, "Why did 
you not wash yourself clean? Giving me this trouble 
to come to this work after the others are all done and 
gone off! Am I the slave which your parents bought 
for you, to work for you here at the Mission? You'll 
see what I'll do to you to-day!" The child stands 
crying with shame, tender-heart, and fear. Down 
comes a blow on her head! "Jump into the tub!" 



30 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

The little one screams out in pain and terror. And the 
older one places two hands, one on the child's head and 
one on her mouth to gag her, and fiercely shakes her, 
ordering her to cease her outcry. If she tries to resist 
or screams again, there goes a big slap across her back, 
with the words, "Am I your parent's slave? Go and 
call your own mother or sister to work for you! You'll 
see how I'll wash you to-day! Sent back to make you 
clean! You'll see rubbing to-day." Then she takes 
the wash-cloth, and puts a lot of soap on it, and begins 
to rub it all over the child's face, purposely to make it 
go into her eyes. Then roughly about her ears and 
neck as harshly as she can, so as to give her pain. Even 
if the child protests, saying, "Ndo; nkaza! " (But; .pain) 
she replies, "Nkaza! nkaza! where do you see pain?" 
[Native idiom "Sees" joy, pain, &c] "Why! you are 
holding the back of my neck so tight that it hurts me 
while you're rubbing." "Didn't you tell the Mistress 
that you washed yourself? And here I've been sent to 
wash you. Now, I will wash you in very truth." After 
the washing is finished, she is taken again to be examined 
by the teacher; and the clean clothes are put on. But 
the big girl has not finished yet with her spite on the 
little one. She gives her a dread to hang over her all 
of Sunday. "You'll see on Monday, about your wash- 
ing." 

Early on Monday morning the little ones always 
brought a required number of buckets for their "mothers" 
to fill up the tubs. The first thing then done would be for 
the big ones to pick out their little ones' under-clothing 
to put into soak. This was superintended by the mis- 
sionary. Then the washing would commence while the 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 31 

missionaries went into their breakfast. The favorite 
little ones stood near while their " mothers" finished 
each piece, and would take it to spread it out to bleach 
in the sun, previous to the final rinsing. Then the big 
girls would take the chance, while the Teacher was away 
at breakfast, and called the unfavored little ones to do the 
washing of their little garments, instead of themselves, 
though those children were unable to do it. With the idea 
that soap, and not rubbing, does the cleaning, the little 
one rubs on soap wastefully, and is sharply chidden. 
"Don't put on so much soap!" "But I am not able to 
rub this petticoat clean by my own strength." "How 
then do you expect it to be done ? Call your own mother 
and sister! " Presently the little one timidly says, "I'm 
done. Is it clean? " " Isala nyame! " (What do I care.) 
If it is finished, then it is finished. Go and spread it 
out on the grass." Sometimes it would really be fin- 
ished; but if it is not, the child is told, "It's not done; 
You'll stand there till it's clean. Go on, till I choose to 
help you." Then when the older one chooses to be ready, 
the garment is rudely snatched, as she says, " Now, bring 
it; and go for more water." Then she would rub over it 
a little, perhaps not cleaning it thoroughly, and say, 
"It's done." Some times the teacher happened to pass 
by while the little one was standing working at the tub; 
and seeing what was going on, would order her, "That's 
not your place! Go away! " and would add to the older 
one, " You did not do your own washing when you were 
small; it was done for you by another." Sometimes the 
impertinent reply would be, "But it was not this one 
who did it for me; why should I make her a return?" 
That was not often said to Mrs. Bushnell. It would be 



32 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

said to younger and newer teachers who did not under- 
stand the Mpongwe language. The teacher would ask, 
"What's that?" "I said it was not she who worked for 
me when I was a child. I was scolded on Saturday for 
her sake; and don't want to be scolded again on her 
account. If I am to be scolded for her, let her leave me. 
I won't work for her. I'm tired of trouble about her. My 
parents did not send me here to be her slave." Then 
there would be punishment for her impertinence, if her 
words had been understood. Or, if not understood, the 
teacher would only tell her to be silent ; and would go on 
with her own work, in the house. So, that ends Monday's 
trouble; unless, after the washing, the teacher should 
happen to examine each garment carefully. Whatever 
was not quite clean enough for rinsing, she put back 
again into the tub. Sometimes, when she was too 
busy, that was not done on Monday morning; and 
ironing (of the children's clothes only) was started in 
the afternoon. But, coming on Tuesday, to exam- 
ine and pick out pieces for mending, the imperfect 
washing would be revealed. Then, after the morning 
school on Tuesday, at noon, all would be called and 
directed to go around and see what was not perfectly 
clean. Young and old would start to see. Then 
the big ones began to pick out what belonged to their 
little ones, and holding up each piece, would say to Mis- 
tress, "I see it's all clean; Where is it dirty?" [Held 
one way, it looked clean.] But the teacher would hold 
it up to the light, and show streaks on the binding or 
skirt. No one, big or little, liked that. The big would 
grumble, "To have the trouble to wash and dry and iron 
even this my own garment over again! " And the little 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 33 

ones would dread when the call came ; for ; if it were their 
garment that was condemned, the greater trouble would 
fall on them, their " mothers" saying, "If this call is 
just to wash over a small garment, the owner had better 
look out! " So that week would be made a hard one for 
the neglected little one, by its "mother" taking away 
its ration of fish when the teacher was absent. The child 
would not dare to inform on her. " If you tell the teacher, 
or make a fuss, I'll be sure what I'll do to you. " The 
child then with tears in her eyes would begin to eat her 
bare cassava-bread or plaint ain without meat. And some- 
times this child would be called before the big ones to be 
teased or tormented, until she cried, and they rejoiced 
in her tears. While this goes on, so hard for the little 
one, she would watch to see whether any other "big 
girl " was disposed to be kind to her. If so, she would try 
to be by her side, and timidly say, "I see you are very 
kind. I wish it was you, instead of the other, to care 
for me! I will be so glad if you will take me! " Then, 
if that big girl was willing, the smaller would go and ask 
Mistress, "I want this big girl to care for me; she likes 
me; and I like her. " The Mistress generally was willing. 
Sometimes the change was made by the Mistress herself, 
in order to keep up the number of those in charge of some 
particular girl. Sometimes, too, a big girl was kind 
enough voluntarily to add one little one more beyond 
her own number. 

At this, the little one would be very glad. And in a 
few weeks, you could see the change in her face and entire 
body. All her sad face and anxious neart gone. She felt 
herself saved! She would be sure at the next nkangana 
(promenade) to the villages, to tell her parents of the 



34 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

change: that the "new 'mother' is kind to me." And 
sometimes she went and asked her parents for a present 
for the "small mother" in the mission-yard. Some- 
times her own mother from the village would come and 
thank the big girl; and would cook a nice dinner for 
that girl and her child. 



tales out of school. 35 

Tale, No. 3. 
A Day's Doings: First Half. 

THE first thing was to get up and out of our room 
before 6 o'clock in the morning. Then, the first 
work for us was to go and bring, each of us, four 
buckets of water for the missionary's kitchen and house- 
hold use for the day. And then we were to tidy up our- 
selves for morning-prayers. After prayers, there were 
always some who had not finished the carrying of their 
specified quantity of water; for, there were not enough 
buckets for all to be carrying at one time. These would 
go and complete their number of bucketfuls. 

Then, the larger girls were divided off; two to go and 
cook the school breakfast, two by turns each week. 
Two to set the table for the missionaries' breakfast. 
And others, two by two, to fix up the bedroom and 
bathroom of each missionary, of whom there might be 
three or six. And one to sweep and order the "Parlor," 
[So-called; the Mission public Sitting-room.] And two 
to fix up the Girls' dormitory. 

Some of the little ones were sent to sweep the paths 
in the yard, and about the girls' kitchen. All this was to 
be finished by 8 o'clock. 

Eight A. M. was the breakfast time for the school- 
girls. We were required to be prompt, but those who 
happened to have more or unusual work, and who had 
not finished it by 8 o'clock, were allowed to come to the 
table five or eight minutes later than the others. There 
were only just so many minutes allowed for our eating. 
It was not a wise or good or just plan. Being too short 



36 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

a time, it made trouble. It was the cause of many a 
day's confusion for the Teacher. (If she had only 
known the real reason!) It was unhealthful for the 
girls' stomachs. Eating hastily, it made them greedy and 
ill-mannered,^and it left them dissatisfied ; for, it was so 
unlike their own native way in their villages, where 
they ate slowly, and spent time in conversation. There 
was sometimes a teacher who, having finished her own 
earlier breakfast (and for which she had allowed herself 
ample time), would nevertheless watch the clock against 
the girls. When the allowed fifteen minutes of the girls 
were up, she would ring a bell for every one to leave the 
table. If the table was not left promptly in a minute 
or two, she would ring the bell again, or would come out, 
either herself or the Mistress, to send the children away 
from the table. Which meant that she would seize the 
plates and fling away their remaining contents of food. 
It was the rule that those who had had to come late 
should first notify the teacher before they sat down, 
"I had to come late. I am only just now going to sit 
down." Then, when the teacher was driving off others, 
she would observe these, and acknowledge that they 
had a right to remain longer. Sometimes she did not 
throw away the contents of a plate, if she saw it had 
only been partly eaten, but would shove it to one side. 
Its share of oguma (cassava-bread) would be left lying 
on it. These pieces would be saved for the child's after- 
noon meal, the afternoon ration being diminished 
thereby. [The school children were given but two 
meals a day, and often meagre ones at that; the mis- 
sionary in charge eating three meals, and apparently 
forgetting that growing children, especially school 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 37 

children, need almost as much food as an adult.] As 
on the plate were the soup and remnants of fish, the 
oguma, lying, soaking in it till late in the afternoon, 
would become nasty. 

Sometimes a late girl had notified the Mistress and 
not the teacher. When the latter would attempt to 
hurry her up, and would start to seize her plate, the girl 
would resist, saying, "Don't take away my food; I am 
only just now come. I was busy in the rooms." If the 
teacher said, "No! no! it is time for the table to be 
cleared, so as to have all things, plates and crumbs 
cleared and washed before school." Then the girl, if 
she was not of a stubborn disposition and did not wish 
contention, would quietly get up, and go and complain 
to the Mistress. She was just, and would say the girl 
was right, and should be allowed to finish her meal at 
the table. This the teacher would not like; she felt 
ashamed at being in fault. Sometimes a girl failed to 
make notification to either Mistress or teacher of having 
been detained at some work, forgetting in her hurry as 
she was just going to eat. Then when the teacher is 
snatching away her plate, and the girl resists, the 
former, unwilling to excuse the girl's failure to notify, 
will say, "No! you must have been here a long time." 
The girl will say, "No! yourself saw me sweeping in 
the rooms, or serving at your mission-table, till just 
now." But the teacher would not yield to let her have 
her food, and takes away the plate. Such injustice al- 
ways was followed by trouble. The girl would protest, 
"After you have kept me busy at the work of your room 
or making up your bed, you will now deprive me of my 
food, and make me go hungry all day till after four 



38 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

o'clock this afternoon! I will be ugly in morning school, 
and will not do any sewing at two o'clock sewing- 
school!" 

After the morning works are all finished, then comes 
the first bell for school at 8.45 A. M. Wash hands and 
face, to be ready for the second bell, at 9 A. M. sharp! 
Teacher is standing at the school door. Every one was 
to be in, within five minutes; for, after the five minutes 
were up, the door was locked for a little while. There 
would be always a rush at the last minute. Most of our 
teachers would let a late comer in, delaying the closing 
of the door if a girl was seen to be near. But there 
were one or two who were so very strict about every 
little thing that they would never yield a second of time. 
Their strictness constantly got themselves into trouble. 
Girls always took revenge on them. Such teachers would 
sometimes shut the door in the very faces of even half 
a dozen girls, replying to their breathless, "Wait! please! " 
"No! you're late!" And they had to stand outside 
there during roll-call and the other opening exercises. 
Then the door was opened; and those outside were let 
in with some slight punishment, generally a single 
stroke of the whip. If it was not this, it was to stand 
up five minutes before taking one's seat. This the 
girls did not like, saying, "I was just at the very door, 
and you pushed me out as if you wanted a chance to 
punish me! " Then, lessons will begin. The order of 
exercises, after the opening, was writing in copy-books, 
or a composition; Reading in English or Mpongwe, and 
translating from one into the other; Spelling in the 
book called "Scholar's Companion;" Georgraphy; His- 
tory, Natural philosophy; English grammar; and 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 39 

Anatomy and physiology. Only the higher classes 
studied all these; and time was given between for reci- 
tation. The last lesson was Arithmetic ; and school 
closed with Singing. But, during the three hours, there 
was often some disorder. Some will be whispering about 
some arrangement, e. g. "After school we'll do this and 
that." And some will begin a quarrel, whispering in a 
low voice, which perhaps will end in a promise to fight as 
soon as school dismisses. Some times they did not 
wait, and the fight would begin even in school, by a 
pinch of a sharp finger-nail. This pinching will go on 
for a minute or two, then comes a stroke or a blow. 
This attracts the teacher's notice, and she calls them 
up. The teacher will inquire, and each will tell her 
version of how the quarrel began. Then the teacher 
will endeavor to settle it, and try to make them shake 
hands and kiss. [Kissing was not a native custom, 
and the girls disliked it.] Most of the time, one of the 
two is ready to do this, but the other will not yield. 
The one will say, "Yes! I am ready to make peace," and 
extends her hand. But the other looks crossly at her, 
and folds her arms tightly. Then the teacher will say, 
"Now! this one is ready for you; put down your. hand." 
The other throws her arm stiffly down by her side, but 
does not extend her hand, and defiantly says, "Yes! 
here's my hand! " The one takes the unextended hand, 
kisses the cheek, and goes to her seat, the other standing 
all unwilling. Then the ugly-behaving one has to 
stand there a long time, or be punished before she is 
allowed to go to her seat. 

After the final singing at twelve o'clock, there is a 
rush to the door, and a yell on emerging. Then, for two 



40 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

hours, from twelve to two P. M. the girls will occupy 
themselves in various ways. Some will begin to start a 
play. Some, companies of three or four friends, would 
concoct a plan to make up for any breakfast that had 
been lost. [Coming from school hungry, and with no 
food in prospect till four P. M., even honest girls were 
driven to lie and steal. Those who arranged the plan 
of two scant meals per day (and one of those often con- 
fiscated) did not think how they drove the children into 
duplicity under childhood's pangs of hunger.] Two of 
them would agree to secretly run away to their village 
home, and other two should keep watch for what might 
happen. This would be while the missionaries were at 
their own twelve o'clock dinner. The plan would be, 
"You watch for me, while I am away ; and if I am called, 
answer for my name." Even a child who had no special 
friends would offer to do the running away in order to be 
given a share of whatever food was obtained. She would 
say, ''You keep watch for me to-day, I'll keep watch for 
you to-morrow." "Yes, go, but don't be long." Then 
always, as soon as the bell rang for the missionary dinner, 
or even before, as many as a dozen girls would slip through 
the fence, and be off to their villages to ask for food. 
Some would succeed in running back in time; others 
would be late just in time to hear the rattle of chairs as 
they were pushed back at the close of the meal from the 
missionary table. They would slink behind the tall 
prairie grass at the rear of the school-house and creep 
through the fence. Sometimes their village was far, 
or, finding their mother with a pot on the fire, they would 
wait. They would not come back with a raw plantain, 
that would be useless; for they would not be allowed 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 41 

to go to the Mistress' kitchen to cook it; they had no 
fire in their own kitchen between meals ; and a raw plan- 
tain would reveal the fact that they had been off the 
premises without permission. If any girl happened to 
be called for by the missionary, the while she was away 
at her village, her watcher-friend would assert she was 
on the premises, and would have an excuse ready for her. 
The excuse was generally " a necessity of nature." If the 
absent one shortly afterward was called for a second 
time, the friend will ask, "What is needed? I'll do it 
for you." But, if the absentee happened to be needed 
for some house job, which the friend was not accustomed 
to do, she will go to the end of the yard and shout, " Re- 
kadie! o biya?" (Such an one! Come thou?), the while 
that she knows the other is not within hearing. Some- 
times she will have another girl hidden, ready to reply; 
or even she will change her voice and reply to herself 
for the absent one. The teacher, becoming restless, 
will perhaps ask the watcher-friend, "Have you called 
her?" "Yes, she's coming." (the while she is still in 
the village.) "But, where is she?" "I thought I heard 
her answer. I do not know the reason she has not come." 
By that time the watcher has sent another girl to creep 
through the fence, and see whether the absentee is com- 
ing. Then this one will run very rapidly and go to the 
village and tell her she is wanted. "Am I called?" 
"Yes, three times." "Aiye-e-e! (Alas!) Try to help 
me. Gather with me some dry sticks for fire." When 
the little fire-wood is gathered, the absentee says, "You 
carry my food, and hide as you go into the yard." 
While herself comes openly carrying the bundle of sticks. 
She goes to the teacher, and with assumed innocence, 



42 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

says, "I hear that I was called. Was I wanted? I was 
away gathering fire wood for the afternoon meal." [An 
allowable reason for going off premises.] 

Sometimes the teacher, suspecting that the girl called 
for is away at her village, will be watching which way 
she will be returning, whether by the front or the back 
way. The girl when detected, tries to tell a consistent 
story, ' ' I was away for my bowels, and was hindered by 
a bad diarrhoea, and since then have been gathering 
firewood." But, the teacher sees the lie; and some- 
times just because it was such a foolish lie, lets it go; 
sometimes she would give her a good scolding. 

Sometimes the absentee, on returning, would plainly 
tell the truth, "I was hungry, and I went to my native 
village to try to get something to eat." Whatever food 
the absentee brought with her, she divided with her 
watcher-friend. Those who had remained at plays, 
were playing tag, or climbing the mangoe trees and swing- 
ing from their sweeping branches, or at kinta-kinta 
(See-saw) on the low spreading limbs of the guava 
bushes. 

At two P. M. was the time for Sewing-school. 



tales out of school. 43 

Tale, No. 4. 
A Day's Doings, Second Half. 

AT Two P. M. we all went into Sewing Class, for two 
hours; making our dresses and other clothing, 
and clothes for the Boys' School, and mending 
for the entire two schools. 

The small children were occupied only in sewing 
together little pieces of cloth, like oboi (patchwork), 
just so that they might learn to handle the needle. 

Hardly any trouble would occur during those two 
hours; nor any confusion (for we were not forbidden 
to talk or move about) except for those who made 
mistakes in their sewing. Then they had to rip it out, 
and do it over again. At that, they would cry. There 
was much difference in our skill. Some knew how to sew 
better and faster than the others; some were good 
button-hole makers; some were known for their felling; 
some for their fine stitching; some had skill to hem, to 
back-stitch, or to fasten on buttons strongly. Those 
who sewed buttons on weakly, were to take them off 
again. Some had skill in cutting; and knew how to 
save material, by a judicious adjusting of the patterns. 

Just before Sewing-school closed, all were required to 
put away their needles safely in a piece of cloth, and their 
thimbles in a little box, so they might not be lost. They 
were to carefully fold each her work, and lay it aside 
in a basket. But some, whenever they had any sewing 
of their own outside of school hours, such as a pillow-case 
or a torn night-cloth to be mended; or, garment for 
their own towns-people, would like to covertly take 



44 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

their needle and thread outside. Then, of course, they 
were apt to get in trouble ; for, the needle would probably 
be lost or broken or stolen, and the transgressor would 
have to hunt awhile for the old needle before she was 
given a new one. 

Now, the sewing is finished! School usually closed 
with a hymn ; and we went out at four P.M. Then began 
some works for the missionary household, and for our 
own kitchen; such as carrying water for the mission bed- 
rooms, emptying slops, and fixing up our own bedding. 
After that came our supper at five P. M. The rations 
of oguma (cassava-bread) were given out at such a num- 
ber by count, so that each pupil should have half a roll, 
and a piece of fish. The oguma-rolls varied in size. If 
they were large, and were properly divided, one was 
sufficient to satisfy three small children; ordinarily, 
they were sufficient for only two. 

Sometimes, instead of oguma, we had akanda (plan- 
tains) or rice. But, often, the smaller children did not 
get their full share of the food. As we did the work by 
turns, each week there was one big girl assigned to do the 
division, with one little one to assist her. Of course, 
the big girl actually did the dividing. She would almost 
always give the big girls a double portion; that made 
much less the share falling to the younger ones. So, by 
the time we had finished eating, some of the younger 
would be half crying, "M' pa jora! " (I've not filled.) 
[The little ones at school suffered much thus from actual 
hunger; for, in their native villages, not only did they 
eat to satisfaction, but even to satiety.] 

But this division was not always the same every day. 
By some of the big girls the division was better and more 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 45 

fairly made. Sometimes, one of the smaller girls would 
be brave enough to privately go to the Mistress, and 
tell her of the unfair portioning that was going on. Or, 
sometimes, a child would go to the Mistress, and ask her 
for something to eat between meals. Then the latter 
will ask the reason, "Why are you hungry?" And the 
child will confess, "We little girls do not have enough." 
Then sometimes the Mistress would come, and, if she 
had time, would stand by, the while the food was being 
divided, or, would divide it herself. Then every one 
will have her full share. [The double share unjustly 
taken by the big girls, they used to keep over for lunches 
between meals.] Then, after the Mistress had divided, 
she would ask the blessing (or, if she was not there, it 
would be asked by one of the older girls) . Perhaps she 
would stay there a few minutes after we began to eat, 
and then she would go. While she was remaining stand- 
ing by us, the little ones would eat as rapidly as they 
could, so that they might be at least half through before 
she left them. Because, sometimes things did not go 
quite straight after she left; for, after she was gone, 
almost every big girl would fix her hands on the plate 
of a little one, saying, "Did you think you would get? 
You won't get! " With that, a portion of the little one's 
food was snatched away. 

After eating, tables were cleared; and the dish- 
washers stood at their washing. And, if it is a fine 
weather for nkangana (promenade), out we will go! 

We come back in time for the six o'clock sun-set 
evening prayers. After prayers, we begin our evening 
plays, sometimes by ourselves, sometimes with the Mis- 
tress to teach us games. Sometimes we played only 



46 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

native plays and native songs; and sometimes the 
teacher would teach us foreign plays and kindergarten 
songs. We enjoyed these little plays very much before 
going in for the night. 

Sometimes we would ask for oranges from the mission 
trees, or other fruit in its season, just before turning in 
for the night. These we were to eat on the spot, as we 
were not allowed to take food into the bedroom. 

About seven o'clock, the youngest of the children were 
all put to bed [it being by that time dark night]. The 
elder ones, who were allowed to sit up, went into the 
missionary dining-room, where were lights on the table. 
Some would begin to prepare to-morrow's sewing work, 
cutting out and basting; and others doing some little 
sewing for themselves, or reading sometimes aloud. 
Sometimes we had a few lessons to learn, to have them 
ready for recitation the first thing in morning school. 
At nine P. M., or a little before, it was bed-time for 
these older ones. 

At night, when we had gone to bed, there would be the 
usual story-telling, fairy tales, or ghost stories. These 
would make some of the timid children more than half 
afraid. Then one or two of the most mischievous ones 
would plot to tease or frighten the others (for, lights 
were not allowed in the room) . They would creep softly 
from their sleeping-place, and pull some one's cloth or 
toe; or, one would go and stand in a corner with a 
white cloth to represent ibambo (ghost). Then those 
whose toes had been pulled would scream, "A! a — a — , 
mangi sina! (You fellows) I am caught by ezama (some 
Thing)!" Some of the serious ones would doubt, say- 
ing, "Zele! pa koto n' oma! " (Not so! no person has 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 47 

been caught). As soon as the conspirator had pulled a 
toe, she has crept away to another spot, and has pulled 
some one else, who screams out, "Sambo! " (Indeed) that 
one has told the truth, for I too am pulled! " By this 
time the room is in confusion. Some one goes to the 
blinds of the window-shutters to pull them down, and 
let in a little starlight. And voices cry, "Who did it? 
Who did it?" Some reply, "Not I! I haven't left my 
place. I'm lying down." At last, by the faint light, 
the conspirator with the white cloth is seen still standing 
in the corner. Now, by this time, some one starts up, 
"Mangi sina! (You fellows!) I see a white Thing!" 
"Where? where? Which way?" is asked from every 
side. Others will begin, "Yes; It's on this side." "I've 
seen it." By this time the Thing has begun slowly to 
move. Every one is frightened, and all are up on their 
feet; all starting, not toward that white ibambo, but 
toward the door. Some who were still sleeping through 
the confusion are awakened by the others pushing them, 
"Get up! a Thing is seen! " Now it's time for shouting 
and yelling with real fear. They are calling for the 
Mistress, "A! a — a, Mammy i — i — O! Mammy — O! 
here is seen a ghost! Aiye — i — i — i! " By this time 
the ibambo has a fine chance to throw off its ghost- 
apparel, and join the others, shouting with them as 
if she too were frightened. For, she dares not stand 
there in that corner until the Mistress comes with the 
light. The light comes. Those who had made the 
plot are half laughing and smiling, for they know all 
about it, while the others do not. Then, after the Mis- 
tress has looked into every corner, she says, "There's 
nothing! Go, each to your own place, and lie down! " 
And all go to their places; and soon fall asleep. 



48 tales out of school. 

Tale, No. 5. 
Rules and Black Marks. 

IN school, there were rules to be obeyed. But they 
were not always the same. They were changed by 
different teachers, and by new missionaries in charge. 

There was one rule that did not last many years. It 
was changed because it proved to be an unwise one, being 
the source of constant trouble, complaint, insubordina- 
tion and punishment. That was the rule that strictly 
allowed only fifteen minutes for the girls' morning meal, 
with confiscation of the contents of the plate of any girl 
who had not finished eating within that time. 

Another rule that was constantly broken was, that 
there should be no eating between meals. The rule 
might have been kept if the ration given twice a day had 
not been so scant. At best it was not a good regulation. 
Those who made it seemed not to remember that a child's 
hunger is hard to be borne. A third rule was that we were 
not, without permission, to take fruit from the oranges, 
limes, mangoes, or other trees planted by the mission 
in the mission compound. It was a proper rule. It was 
not that the missionaries were not willing we should have 
a share in their fruits. Indeed, faithfully carried out, it 
would have assured every one of us, big and little, a fair 
share. It was to prevent our eating unripe fruit, or even 
ripe fruit in excess. As to the limes, it was true that they 
were used by the children in excess, and then they were 
injurious. But it was impossible to enforce this rule. The 
trees were ever in our paths; the fruit was abundant; 
the opportunities for taking were so constant and easy; 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 49 

the temptation was too great. The rule was a constant 
source of trouble to both the children and the mission- 
aries. 

A fourth rule concerned the front gate. We were not 
to go outside of it, nor even to it ; not even if we saw our 
relatives coming to visit us. We were to await them in- 
side the yard. And, on their leaving, we were not to es- 
cort them farther than that gate. Nor were we to stand at 
that gate to watch passersby. Yet, we dearly loved to 
swing on that gate ! 

A fifth rule concerned the braiding of the asara (chig- 
nons) of our hair. To plait hair neatly and firmly required 
skill. Not all knew how to do it. But all were required 
to learn. On Saturday afternoons, before the bath-hour, 
the teacher came to count how many heads needed to be 
braided. Then she named those larger ones who each 
should plait for one smaller one; and pairs of large ones 
who should plait for each other. These native asara will 
last a long time, even several weeks, if well and firmly 
done. But the Mistress, for fear of vermin, would not allow 
one to go more than two weeks without being undone and 
re-plaited. Those with short hair had to be braided every 
week, for their short hairs did not hold well together 
in the plaits; and soon became frowsy. As there were 
many who had long hair, and but few who were skillful, 
those few would have to attend to two or three heads. 
It happened often, when the Mistress named the braiders, 
that some of them knew nothing about doing it well. 
Then there was vexation on both sides ; from the braider 
because her ignorance was exposed, and from the 
braided because she knew her hair would not look well. 
Generally the one who did know well, and who did not 



50 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

wish her hair to be spoiled, would name to the Mistress 
some other one whom she wished should do it for her, 
and would ask that they be paired. Sometimes the 
Mistress was willing; but sometimes she says, "No; this 
one, if she does not know how, ought to know. She may 
practice on you." So she would stand by and compel 
the ignorant one to try to do it. Then this one who does 
not know how is indeed trying her best, but is crying with 
shame at her own mistakes; and the one who is being 
braided is crying with vexation at her hair being spoiled. 
As hair-braiding is hard for beginners, even a straight 
parting of the hair is difficult to be made. While that 
parting was going on, the owner of the hair is conscious 
that it is crooked, and begins to object. Sometimes she 
would let it go on till one or two braids are done, before 
she looks in her little hand-mirror, though she knows 
things are going crookedly. After these one or two braids 
are finished, she calls for the glass, "I want to see my 
asara." Then, as soon as she sees in the glass the crooked 
chignon, she turns and says "I won't be braided by you! 
You have to undo it again!" The other says, "No; I 
was told to do your hair ; and I will finish it, even if I do 
not know how." But the other, "No! I won't! I won't 
have my hair pulled for nothing, and no asara fit to be 
seen come of it." At this, the braider is pleased to be 
relieved of a work she is not competent to perform, and 
goes to report to the Mistress, "Rekadie (such-an-one) is 
not willing I shall braid her. Her hair is too thick and too 
long for me to manage. I have tried my best." The 
other one also comes along, "I come to show you my 
asara. I will not go to church with them to-morrow." 
Then the Mistress will be reasonable, and will excuse 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 51 

the ignorant girl, and sends her to practice on smaller 
heads with less abundant hair. The one who was dis- 
satisfied has now to wait, watching for a chance to be 
done up by some one else. 

This happened one day to one of the best braiders. 
She braided for her friend Celia, who herself did not 
know how; but who that day had been appointed to be 
paired with her. So she did not get vexed, for Celia 
was her friend. She sat and laughed to herself as she 
undid her chignon while she was waiting for Celia to 
come to her. The latter was willing, and she really tried. 
She tried over and over, half a braid at a time ; and then 
would undo it. After she had started a braid, the other 
would ask her, "How does it look?" "I think it will 
look all right." And she goes on braiding. Again the 
other asked, "How does it look?" "Not very well; 
but next time it will be better." So Celia went on 
braiding and unbraiding, unskillfully pulling at the 
other's hair till the skin of her scalp became sore with 
the pulling. Then the other said, "That's enough. Let 
us wait till another day." So, instead of the pair vexing 
and complaining to the teacher, they had a good laugh 
over it; and the other had to hunt up another braider. 
That was the first and the last time that Celia braided 
for her friend. But she would playfully try to tease 
that friend long afterward, "I think I am able to braid 
you now. Let me do it." "No! I don't want to be 
practiced on." Those who, like this girl had the longest 
and thickest hair, had, most of the time, to ask permis- 
sion to go to their villages to be done up by their own 
mothers. Sometimes the Mistress was willing we 
should go. Sometimes she refused, "No time to spare 



52 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

yoti to go to your villages to-day." Then we had to 
send for the mother or cousin to come and braid us at 
Baraka inside the yard. For this, the missionaries 
were entirely willing. For some of those who had thick 
hair, and were careful to keep it clean, an isara would 
last a long time. Two or three of the girls could make 
them keep and look well for three weeks. Some could 
not keep their hair tidy, even after it was braided; and 
the missionary was compelled to require them to have 
their hair short. 

As to obeying all these rules: — Sometimes the teacher 
or the Mistress would keep a record and list of names. 
Those who broke rules during the week would have 
"black marks;" those who obeyed, a "good" or straight 
mark. Those who had no bad marks for a whole week, 
were sometimes given a little present. Most of the time 
the girls would watch the two slates used for records 
that stood on the top of the bureau in the Mistress' 
room. If they noticed a "black" mark against their 
name, and for which they could not account, and if the 
girls knew those marks were put there by a certain 
assistant, and not by the Mistress, they would go and 
ask the Mistress, "I see a "black" mark. What have 
I done?" If the Mistress said, "Not by me. Ask Miss 

;" or, if she would say, "The teacher told 

me to put it, but she did not tell me for what;" then 
the girl would go and ask that teacher about it. Some- 
times the teacher would be displeased, and say, "How 
do you know about it? Who told you to look at the 
slate ? " The girl replies, " I passed by, and saw my name. 
If you can't give me the reason why, I will go and rub it 
out. But, just tell the reason. I want to know what 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 53 

I have done." If no reason is given, the girl attempts 
to carry out her threat of erasing. [There was one 
missionary teacher who was sadly lacking in judgment 
and tact. She seemed to take pleasure in spying out 
small faults, to which the Mistress of the house pre- 
ferred to be wisely blind. The making of "black" 
marks, and then refusing to inform for what offense the 
mark was made, drew upon this unfortunate lady great 
disrespect, and a painful lack of confidence in her, on 
the part of the school-girls.] Then this teacher would 
say, "If you rub it out, I will give you another. Let it 
alone." But the girl went and did it. When the teacher 
saw that, she put two or three more in its place and hid 
the slate. Once this happened with that lady and one 
of the very best girls. She thought she had been very 
good, clear up to a certain day, Friday. When she saw 
her name on the slate, there were two "black" marks 
against it. (She was always proud to keep her name 
clear; and the Mistress always trusted her.) She went 
to ask the Mistress, who told her that the mark had been 

ordered by Miss . So she went straight to Miss 

, and asked her, " I want to know about the "black 

marks." Miss was not willing to tell her. And 

she was not willing to leave the room till she knew. 

Then Miss explained, "I saw you standing at or 

near the front porch, or the gate ; and you had one of the 
buttons on the back of your dress unbuttoned." [The 
front gate was fifty feet distant from the front porch or 
veranda.] The girl said, "I saw our missionary father 
coming. I went out of the house and stood on the porch 
to meet and welcome him. That is not forbidden to us. 
I did not go to the gate, nor even leave the porch to 



54 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

step on the ground. I do not see that that was wrong. 
And, was my open button indecency or untidiness? I 

want you to rub out those two marks." Miss 

was not willing to do so. The girl said, "You are not 
willing to rub them out, and yet you give me no true 
reason for their being there. I call those marks, marks 

s' inoka (of untruth)." Then Miss demanded, 

"What's that? Do you say I tell a lie?" The girl 
said, "Yes!"; and then she left the room. Then Miss 

broke into tears and went to tell the Mistress 

that the girl had said she lied. The Mistress was sur- 
prised that her good monitress had used such language, 
and called her and asked her if it was so. She acknowl- 
edged, "Yes; I have asked Miss again and again 

either to rub those marks out, or to explain them; and 
she won't. So I consider them untrue." The Mistress 
was annoyed that this had happened to her faithful 
monitress; she spoke kindly to her, and said, "Miss 

feels hurt very much that you accuse her of lying. 

You should not have used the word "lie." You might 
have said she had made a mistake." The girl too was 
feeling hurt for the spoiling of her good record, and she 
refused to change the word. But the next day, Satur- 
day, when the slates were read off, there were no "black " 
marks against her name. 

As to rewards for good conduct: A small merit card 
was given at the end of each perfect week; and at the 
end of a perfect month these four cards were exchanged 
for a small book. Those who were not able to be good 
for an entire month did not forfeit what they had 
already, but could keep their cards till they accumu- 
lated by the next month or months to four, and then 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 55 

they were exchanged for a reward. Some would go a 
month or two without even one entire week's good card ; 
for some got as many as three "black" marks in one 
day. For being impertinent or otherwise "ugly" to a 
missionary, or for fighting with other girls, that week 
got no card. Such offenders would try to put on a bold 
face and say, "Z* isala! (no matter!) Who cares?" But, 
really, they did care. 

When we had succeeded in going half of the week 
with no mark, then we would hope and try harder. 
And the Mistress would encourage us. "See, this is 
Wednesday, and you have no mark! Try your best the 
rest of this week! " Then those girls who had been 
good would ask the Mistress to take them a Saturday 
walk. But, if some had been doing badly, she would 
say to them, "You, and you, such an one, you cannot 
go out walking with the rest." That would be nkaza 
(pain) to be left behind. The rest of us would go off 
happy and glad. And we would come back from our 
romp on the beach, bringing with us long vines that 
grew on the top of the beach, which we used for skip- 
ping-ropes. As soon as we returned, we would come, 
jumping ropes and skipping into the yard, glad that 
we had had no "black" marks. 



56 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

Tale, No. 6. 
School Promenades. 

IN our school-days, the teacher had the ntyale (habit) 
of taking the children out to walk once or twice a 
week; that is, if everything had gone on well, and 
work was all finished. If not, then we were told, "You 
sha'n't go out this week; work was not well done, and 
some girls have been naughty." So, whenever a walk 
was promised a day or two in advance, all the girls 
would try to do their very best so as not to prevent it. 
We would try to do our work as quickly as we could in 
the morning of the promised day, so as to gain time to 
lengthen the walk in the afternoon. For, we enjoyed 
those walks very much. 

Starting out from the front gate of the school premises, 
Teacher would ask us, " Which way do you wish to go? 
To the right? or to the left?" Then we would choose. 
As we were many, the homes of some of the girls were 
toward the right side; of others, toward the left. Every 
one chose the part toward which their mothers lived, 
so that they could go and see them; and finally the 
majority decided the route to be taken. So, when pass- 
ing along, as we approached any village, the child whose 
relatives lived in that vicinity, would say, "Ma! let me 
run ahead to salute my mother, and join you afterwards." 
And she would let us go. Thus some one in succession 
would be running ahead to their own village, so that 
they might have a few minutes longer with their friends. 
Those who had not their own homes near, would ask to 
go along with their special girl friend who was going to 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 57 

see her's. Others, who had no homes, would just stay- 
on the beach playing, while waiting for the rest. 

When our mistress had gone as far as she intended to 
go, she would begin to turn back with the few girls who, 
either having no homes, or not caring for the beach play, 
had chosen to remain with her. And they will go up 
from the beach through the villages, retracing their route, 
stopping from place to place, and picking up the strag- 
glers. To those whose homes were off the direct route, 
the teacher would send messengers ahead or to the right 
or left, to call them. 

Always the first thing with us, on arrival in our village, 
was to pick cayenne-pepper pods from the bushes grow- 
ing in our villages, as all the school-children were very 
fond of pepper. [It is an essential in assisting digestion 
of the starch of the native cassava-bread.] The bushes 
growing on the Baraka school premises did not suffice, 
and were constantly stripped. This was usually the 
first request: "Ma! let us run ahead to gain time to 
pick pepper; we have none at Baraka; and our villages 
have." The Teacher would say, " Yes! but don't destroy 
their bushes." For, we had the evil habit, in our haste, 
of not carefully and slowly picking off the little pods, but 
would greedily break off branches; thus destroying the 
bush. So, if once the girls got to work at a pepper-bush, 
it was hard to get them away again. The cry would 
come from the Mistress, "Girls! yogoni" (come ye). 
But that general call would be disregarded. Then 
came, by name, "You, such-an-one! yogo! (Come thou!) " 
Even then, it was slow leaving. The Teacher would 
have to call two or three times, "Girls! it's getting late." 
"Yes, Ma! we're coming!", the while they were still 



58 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

standing busily picking. As soon as they had heard 
the call, every one began to pick more rapidly than 
before; and, instead of plucking pod by pod, at last 
they began to snatch off small ends of branches, so as to 
get a dozen pods at a time, which was faster than taking 
one by one. Of this, the village owner of the bush would 
sometimes take notice. Anxious for her bush, but 
ashamed to rebuke the child, the woman would say, 
"Children! you are called!" thus escaping from seeming 
to forbid the plucking of the pepper. We would reply, 
"Yes, we've heard." As we still delayed, her anxiety 
for her bush would outgrow her tenderness for us. " But, 
why don't you then go? Better go now; you have 
picked quite enough." "Yes, please; we want to pick a 
few more; we have not quite enough." Her patience 
presently would give out; " But don't break the bushes." 
Then we would pick still faster, make one final grab at 
an entire branch, break it off, run as fast as we could, and 
go to join the others, happy, over our pepper and other 
presents. These latter would always be either a little 
salt (as we were not allowed to go to the salt- jar in the 
mission pantry between meals), beads, a sleeping-cloth, 
a roll of Oguma (cassava-bread) , a few fingers of plantains, 
or fish. Then we all came back to the school-yard 
laughing, happy, carrying the little presents of food 
given us by our parents or sisters, and saying, "Nka- 
ngana (ramble) good! " But, when the start out was a 
little late, and there was time only for walking on the 
beach, and no time to visit our mothers or to pick from 
the pepper-bushes, the murmur was, "The nkangana 
was not good. I did not like it; had no time to run 
over to my village." And some would say, "Nyawe 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 59 

'du (not at all) what's the use; I wish I had stayed in 
the yard, and not have gone at all." A few would say, 
"E! mangi sina! (Eh! this people!) It was all right: I 
enjoyed myself running and chasing on the beach and 
playing in the sand." Then some would reply, "Yes! 
that will do for you. You say so because you were not 
near your own village. Would you have liked it if your 
home had been near, and you were given no time to run 
to it, and get something?" 

But sometimes we got into trouble with the town 
girls in passing through their streets; and would fall 
into a quarrel with them. Sometimes we were in the 
right; sometimes we were in the wrong, we beginning 
the quarrel, which occasionally ended in a fight on the 
spot, or a promise of one. That promise would be, " Come 
to-morrow afternoon, at such and such an hour and such 
a place out on the prairie, while the missionaries are eat- 
ing." As most of the town girls knew nothing about 
hours, they would come either too late or too early; at 
an hour when the missionaries were not eating. Then 
one or two of the younger girls would be sent out on the 
sly to meet the coming town-girls, and tell them, "We 
have no chance to meet you just now, lest we be caught 
and punished. Come again to-morrow at the appointed 
hour." Then if that next day they came on time, those 
school girls who were engaged for the fight, would go 
out and meet the town-girls ; and would leave one or two 
younger ones to watch when the missionaries rose from 
their table, and they were then to run out and call the 
fighters back. These younger ones would come saying, 
"Girls! Come! quick! the white people have finished eat- 
ing! " Then, if the fight was not done, the girls would 



60 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

say to those of the towns, " Our fight is not ended! Come 
another day and finish it." If the town children saw 
they were equal in strength they were willing to arrange 
to come back again. But, if they saw that their party was 
weak and not able to conquer, they would refuse to come, 
and the quarrel might be called settled. But not always. 
Sometimes, when the fight had thus been interrupted, 
and the school girls would say, "Wait for another day." 
The town children would reply, "O! you're afraid!" 
They would not dare say that on the spot, or at the 
moment, but after themselves had started to go, and 
had what they thought a safe distance between them- 
selves and the school girls. As soon as the school chil- 
dren would hear this they were enraged; to be called 
cowards was too much. "What will happen must hap- 
pen! Come back now, then. Let us have it! " Then 
the school children would run after the town's-people 
cheering and shouting and fighting as they went along. 
This noise would be so loud, that the missionary would 
hear it; she would be sure to guess that the children 
were out fighting; and she would send some one to get 
them back, or go down the path herself with a whip. 
The town children would be afraid of that whip, and 
would flee. The punishment for the school would be, 
"This trouble began at the last promenade. You will 
not promenade again for two weeks." This would be 
sore punishment for the school girls. They would rather 
be punished in almost any other way. Those who were 
not mixed in either the fight or its cause, would murmur, 
"We did not join in the fight, but we are made to share 
in the punishment." The teacher would only reply, 
"If one of you has done wrong, the others of you will 
have to suffer too." 



tales out of school. 61 

Tale, No. 7. 
Vacations. 

MOST of the missionary ladies and gentlemen had 
the habit of choosing some one boy or girl, as 
their special favorite, sometimes giving them 
their own name. Or, sometimes, people in the United 
States, a woman or a man, would send word to the Mis- 
sion to choose a boy or girl and give them their name, 
and they would send them occasional presents besides 
the yearly money spent [at that time] by the Mission 
for their support. 

Many of the school children had English names given 
in this way, or perhaps by their own parents, or even by 
the missionaries themselves, if they thought the native 
name, e. g. "Anyentyuwe" (which was used by several 
girls) was difficult to pronounce. The presents sent to 
these namesakes were of various things, e. g. books, 
dresses, aprons and other articles of clothing. Sometimes 
the ladies of some church in the United States would send 
a whole box full of dresses for the entire school, to help 
save the time and strength of the Mission Teacher in our 
sewing school. These were usually given to us as rewards, 
or distributed after the close of an examination and just 
before vacations. 

Originally we had vacations every quarter of a year. 
Then we were allowed to go to our villages, and stay one 
week with our parents or other relatives. Afterwards, 
this was changed to having vacation only twice a year, 
and the school then had a rest from lessons for two weeks. 
The rule was that all of the smaller girls (Classes Nos. 5, 



62 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

4, and 3) went to their villages and stayed the entire two 
weeks. But the largest girls (Class No. 1) had to remain 
at the Mission-house even during vacation; being 
allowed, however, to go on occasional walks to their vil- 
lages and return the same day. The next largest class 
(No. 2) was usually divided into two sections, the one 
half to spend half of the two weeks' vacation in their 
village, and then come back to take the place of the other 
half who had remained at Baraka. There were two 
reasons given for this practice: One was, that, as the 
missionaries employed no personal servants (except a 
cook), we girls were required to do all their household 
service without pay. The works of the Mission-house- 
hold were many, and not all the young workers could be 
spared to go on their vacation at the same time. Another 
reason was, lest, by long stay in their villages, the children 
should get mixed up in heathen customs. 

This was felt by the girls to be hard; especially so by 
that Class No. 2. When the time came for the Mistress 
to say to the first section, "Now, your week is finished; 
return from your vacation," there was murmuring. For, 
they knew that next year they would be pronounced too 
big to go at all, and would be classed among the largest 
girls; and they would begin to cry and say, "I am not 
yet become old. I want to visit my village. I know 
I am hindered, just to do this house-work." 

This missionary practice was not a good one; for, we 
girls felt it was not just for us to be compelled to do all 
that work without pay. We would not have objected 
to doing even many little services as affectionate children. 
But, all the washing, ironing, sweeping, scrubbing, water- 
carrying, bed-making, house-cleaning often taxed our 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 63 

strength severely. So, on escaping from these tasks, 
we children used to enjoy vacation very much. We would 
count ahead, weeks and days, as the vacation approached. 
When there remained only about two weeks in advance, 
the Mistress would say, "Such and such a work is to be 
finished before vacation." There was the making of 
new dresses, so that the girls should have something clean 
to wear at once on their return. These were left lying 
at the Mission-house to await our return. There was 
patching of old dresses, and mending, and making sleep- 
ing-cloths to be taken with the girls to their villages. 
Also, they took with them each two nice dresses to be 
worn on Sabbath; as those who lived near were ex- 
pected to come back to church. 

The youngest little girls were always started to their 
homes on the Saturday preceding the vacation. The 
next set (Class No. 3) would go out on the following Mon- 
day. Then the first half of Class No. 2 would follow on 
Tuesday ; they having helped on Monday in the cleaning 
up and leaving in order the dormitory just vacated by the 
little ones. As each day the out-going ones of that day 
were summoned by the Teacher, there were shoutings 
of joy, "Yo! yo! mbyambiyeni! (Good! good! good- 
bye all!) " Occasionally, a few of even the youngest ones 
had to stay, either for the reason that their homes were 
too far away; or, as actually was at times the case, 
their own relatives were so shiftless as to be unfit to 
take proper care of them. These and others who had to 
remain would begin to weep, " Ndo m' bela kenda! (But 
I want to go!) " For, they knew that those who went 
to their villages would be enjoying themselves very 
much. 



64 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

Those whose fathers were prominent men, e. g. Tom 
Case, and Oneme, and Sonie Harrington, and Governor, 
who had money and slaves with which to make a big 
plantation miles away from their town houses that were 
adjacent to the Mission, would arrange to take all their 
children at vacation time off to their camps in the forest. 
Sometimes the Mistress would allow even the big girls 
(Class No. 1) to go too, if they promised to go only to the 
plantation-camp, and not to their town houses in the 
villages near the foreign Trading-houses. Then these 
girls would plead with their fathers to make the occasion 
for the clearing of a new camp to coincide with the time 
of vacation. If their fathers, who were head-trademen, 
(sub-agents) for the white men at the so-called "Fac- 
tories" (Trading-houses) could get away from their 
trade just at that time, they would do so. As soon as 
these children reached the plantation [where there was 
a collection of small huts, mostly occupied by the slaves 
who guarded the plantation] their mothers would ask 
them to take off their dresses and put on the single native 
cloth. This for two reasons: to keep their dresses from 
being torn by thorns ; and because our parents said our 
bodies would not grow well if the winds were not allowed 
to blow on our skin. [Which is true.] The smaller 
children liked to put off the dress; but the larger ones 
did not ; for, they felt it somewhat of an indecency, having 
become accustomed to covering their bodies; [and also 
because the old women would critically examine their 
bodies and make remarks about their development with 
reference to marriage.] Nevertheless, their dresses were 
laid aside; their skin carefully looked over lest there be 
any eruptions; they were thoroughly washed every day, 






TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 65 

and given plenty to eat, so that they might grow fat. 
For, there in the plantation they had a greater abundance 
and variety of food than even in their own villages ; such 
as, besides the usual plantains and oguma (cassava), 
akabo (eddoes) ; several varieties of yam, the inkwa 
(a pink yam), imanga (a white yam), ngwa (a small hard 
yam), imbongwe (a yellow, slightly bitter yam), araga 
(a yam resembling Irish potato), white sweet potatoes, 
fresh fish, mutton of goat, wild meat, njagani (chicken), 
fish with gravy of odika (wild-mangoe kernels), or palm 
oil, or mpaga (a rich oily nut), and nganda (gourd-seed 
pudding). These made rich gravies or sauces; and 
cooked with any meat in plantain leaves were called 
agewu (bundles). When it was the proper time for 
making a clearing in the forest for a new garden, every 
day the parents with their slaves and us children all 
would leave this plantation mpindi (hamlet), and go off 
still farther into the forest where the new plantation 
clearing was to be made, and near which already two or 
three temporary bamboo sheds had been erected. We 
would leave the plantation very early in the morning to 
go to the work of clearing for the new ntyaga (garden). 
We small children would help our mothers to carry small 
loads, perhaps of a basket of food, or a little jug of water, 
or a bundle of clean clothes; as the women always put 
on, for that work among the bushes, one old cloth and 
two handkerchiefs, one to tie around their head and the 
other with which to gird themselves, ready for the work 
of cutting bushes and vines and saplings, each with one 
or two cutlasses (machetes) . The first thing, on arriving 
at the shed of the new small mpindi, was to gather fire- 
wood, make a fire, and fix the children something to eat 



66 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

for breakfast. There the mothers intended to leave the 
smaller children, bidding them to take care of the sheds 
and not stray away from them. But, the little ones, 
seeing the older ones going, would say, "But we want to 
go along with you and help you in the cutting of the 
bushes." The mothers would say, "No; you don't 
know how to do it; and you will be in our way." Still 
the children would plead, "No; but we want to come!" 
Then the mothers consent, "Well, come along." 

But, as soon as these little ones get to the place where 
the work is begun, they see it is not so fine and easy as 
they had thought. As they are really unable to assist, 
and there is nothing to play with, they soon become 
dissatisfied. And, as their mothers disappear behind 
the piles of brush and bushes in the forest, they begin to 
feel lonely and cry out, " Mother, where are you? I want 
to come to you!" "Well, come on!" "But where are 
you? I can't see a path or find a place." The mother 
replies, "Mie wina" (this is I). Then the child, seeing 
no one, but trying to follow the voice, soon becomes 
entangled with her clothes in the thorns, and being 
alarmed, cries out, "But where are you, Mother?" The 
voice repeats, "Mie wina; come on!" Soon the little 
legs are tripped among vines, and down the child falls, 
and begins to whimper, "The thorns! and the vines; and 
your voice is far!" Then the mothers say: "If you are 
not able to come, then turn back all of you before you 
lose the path, or get lost in the bushes. Are you able to 
find the way back to the mpindi sheds?" If so, they 
turned back. If not, and one begins to cry, "I've lost 
my way! I can't see to go back! " some one of the women 
has to leave her work and go back with them, which is a 






TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 67 

vexation to her in losing her worktime. So she takes 
them back to the little mpindi, and prepares their dinner, 
and says, "Now this is your dinner. When you all get 
hungry, here it is. And don't come to the forest to 
trouble us again. We don't want you there." The 
children accept the rebuke, but ask, "When are all our 
mothers coming?" "Not till evening, after sun-set." 
"But when will they have their food? Will they not be 
hungry?" "We have not time there for cooking or any 
thing else; only work. We have taken a little lunch 
with us; and we will eat when we return to-night." 
Then the woman leaves us, and goes back to the work 
with her machete again. We children were not afraid 
to be alone, for there were the sheds, and not the wild 
forest; and there was an open space between the sheds 
in which to play. We dug sweet potatoes, which already 
had started to grow there, and cooked them in the hot 
ashes, and we ate our fill. Before sun-set came, some 
slave was sent by our mothers in advance to be with us, 
to start fires, and to begin to get their food ready. By 
seven P. M. it would be dark; and we, tired with play, 
were glad to see our mothers coming, their path lighted 
by a torch or a fire-brand. 

This way of doing would go on for two or three days ; 
and was a nice plan, if there were those mpindi sheds 
in which to sleep. If not, then the day's walk, after 
the day's work, was a long one, back to the big planta- 
tion. The women could not do that every day; they 
would have to rest a day or so at the big plantation, 
doing some light work. Sometimes, when they had 
eaten all their supply of food they had taken with them 
to that forest-clearing, they would all go back with us 



68 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

to the plantation, to prepare a new lot of food for some 
more days again at the new plantation. As that forest 
work is hard, and makes the body sore all over, the wo- 
men would take a hot bath each night to prepare for the 
next day, and put oil on all scratches or wherever thorns 
had torn their skin. 

After the women had finished cutting the underbrush 
of the ntyaga, then came the best time of all, when the 
men would follow to chop down the trees. That was the 
time for rich food, and plenty of eating; no small lunches. 
But, if the men were not ready, we had to go back and 
wait at the big plantation. And we would miss the ex- 
citement of the tree-felling and the rich eating; for, by 
that time the vacation would be up. Then some chil- 
dren would plead with their mothers to be allowed to 
stay overtime. Sometimes it was impossible; and we 
had to go back to school. But sometimes, when the 
fathers themselves were there to superintend the fell- 
ing, and were not able to leave in order to escort the 
children back to school, the parents notified the mission- 
aries that the children had to stay longer. Finally, our 
fathers themselves would take us back, when their work 
was done, carrying with us food, and new clothes, and 
we looking healthy and well. And they would tell us 
to be good, saying, "You have had a long vacation. 
Don't ask to be going to the villages." All of us came 
back with the happy thought of our vacation. 

Those who had remained at the Mission-house had 
been working; scrubbing and house-cleaning, as that 
was the best time for house-work, there being but few 
children to take care of, and no little ones in their way. 

But those workers also had some sort of a good time; 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 69 

for, the Mistress would be unusually kind to them at that 
season. She would please them by long walks, taking 
them at times even near to their plantations. She 
would take them for baths in the sea, or to the brooks 
in the forest. Also for them, in vacation, the rules were 
not strictly carried out; if they happened to break any, 
it was over-looked and no marks made. So all came 
together happy and pleasant at the end of our vacation. 
And books would begin again. 



70 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 



Tale, No. 8. 
The Seven Re-captives. 

SOME years before any of the native women who have 
given me their reminiscences in these Tales were 
born, there had been brought to the Mission seven 
children, five boys and two girls, little waifs, rescued from 
foreign slavery by a certain American sea captain named 
Lawlin. He had a trading-house for ivory, dye-woods and 
other natural products of the country at Nkami (miscalled 
"Camma") about one hundred miles south of Gaboon 
river. He frequently made visits in his sailing vessel 
to Libreville; and, being friendly to Missions, he visited 
at the Baraka house. 

Slaves were at that time (between 1845 and '55) still 
being exported from the Coast, less than one hundred 
miles south of the Gaboon river, from the Delta of the 
Ogowe river. British cruisers had made the slave-trade 
unsafe for large vessels such as could cross the Atlantic 
to Cuba and Brazil. But small sloops, open boats that 
could easily hide among the mangrove swamps at the 
many mouths of the Ogowe river, safely ran in and out 
at night, and carried on a successful slave-trade with 
the adjacent Portuguese islands, St. Thomas and Prince's 
some two hundred miles west of the Gaboon Coast. 

At his "Camma" house, Capt. Lawlin "contrived to 
redeem five bright little boys from slavery, by paying 
money to their owners; and soon afterwards they were 
placed under the care of the Mission." For, he brought 
them to Libreville, landed them at the Mission, and gave 
them to the Rev. William Walker, the missionary then 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 71 

in charge; who, of course, declared them free (except 
in case of one of those boys) . Mr. Walker had previously- 
seen, among the domestic slaves of a native friend, a 
wealthy Mpongwe trader, by name Sonie Harrington, 
an active, bright-faced, intelligent-looking little lad 
whom he offered to ransom from his master, hoping that 
he could be made a useful pupil in the Mission school. 
But Sonie refused ; he himself liked the lad's intelligence, 
and he preferred the living being to the offered money. 

When these five boys came to Mr. Walker's hand, he 
renewed his request to Sonie, and offered to exchange 
one of them for the desired lad. Sonie yielded. The 
little boy passed into the company of his other slaves. 
There is no record of what ever became of him. But, as 
Sonie was a kind master, certain it is that the boy's life 
was a happier and freer one at Libreville, under the mild 
form of Mpongwe domestic slavery than on the coffee 
plantations of St. Thomas island. The substituted lad 
at once became a freeman, a pupil in the Baraka school, 
passed year after year up through its course of education, 
entered the church, is a consistent Christian, and a useful 
evangelist in the church services. 

His life has been an uneventful one, except for its one 
bit of romance. In entering into his freedom he assumed 
that he had a right to all Mpongwe privileges. As a 
young man at school, he fell in love with one of the school 
girls, a daughter of his late master, and desired to marry 
her. That was utterly impossible. A tribal custom, 
strict as that of Mede and Persian, forbids a Mpongwe 
woman to marry any man of an inferior tribe, however 
worthy he may personally be. The freedom bought by 
the missionary was not accepted by the Gaboon natives 



72 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

as equal to free birth. The young man, at the refusal, 
shrank back into himself, became secretive, lost much 
of his energy and zeal to work, has kept much to himself, 
and has persistently refused to seek marriage. A 
remarkable position for a native African negro to main- 
tain. Every native man and woman expects to marry; 
and will and does marry, in some way, legal or illegal, 
somebody or anybody. This man, now beginning to be 
gray-haired, is the only exception of whom I know. 

On one of his voyages, Captain Lawlin came across 
one of those small slave boats out at sea. It had met 
with a storm, had lost its way; and slavers and slaves 
were suffering hunger and thirst. He had no desire to 
aid the Portuguese slave-traders; but, as a humane man, 
he pitied the dying slaves, and sold the slavers food and 
water, demanding in exchange certain of their human 
cargo. He chose two little girls. Of all these seven 
re-captives, their character and their lives, I write from 
my personal observation and acquaintance. But of 
their origin I derive my information from a little book 
("Gaboon Stories," American Tract Society) written 
many years ago, by the late Mrs. Jane S. Preston, who 
was a missionary in the Baraka house, at the time the 
children arrived. Her own statement is: "There were 
also two little girls in the Mission who had been rescued 
from slavery. Why they were first sold, I do not know; 
but they had been bought by Portuguese of the island 
of St. Thomas. They with other slaves, were being 
taken from near Cape Lopez, in an open boat, across 
to the island; but, in a storm their masters had been 
driven out of their course, and not having any compass, 
had lost their way, and did not know the direction of 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 73 

their island home. After many days sailing here and 
there in vain, their food and water were all gone. Just 
then the American captain fell in with them as he was 
going south along the coast, but out of sight of land. 
He gave them food and water, and told them which way 
to steer to find St. Thomas. Then, as he looked down 
from his vessel into their little boat, he saw these two 
little girls among the other slaves, and pitied them. He 
pitied them all, but he had no power to take them away 
from their cruel masters. An idea struck him; I will 
make these men give me those little girls in pay for the 
food and water I have given them, and take them to 
Gaboon to my friends the missionaries. Thus Pale and 
Mbute were rescued." 

Of the tribal origin of those two girls, something might 
be conjectured from their names. "Pale" means 
"safely;" "Mbute" is an attempt to pronounce our 
English word "bottle." Both words are of Benga origin. 
That the boat they were found in started on its journey 
from Cape Lopez, a degree south of the Equator, would 
not necessarily prove that all its occupants had come 
from that region. All the tribes of that region, and 
south of it several hundred miles toward the Kongo 
river, are cognate with the Mpongwe of the Gaboon. 
Benga and its cognates are north of Gaboon. These 
girls might have originally been sold from the north. 
Or, it is possible that they were born in the region of the 
Kongo river whose dialects again are cognate with the 
Benga. 

They were placed in school, along with the other four 
re-captives, where they almost all remained, till they grew 
up to young manhood and womanhood. Though really 



74 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

freed, none of those children were ever so regarded by 
their free school-mates. Having no home but Baraka, 
they always remained there during vacations; and 
always were used by the missionaries as servants ; which 
fact unintentionally gave them a semi-slave status in 
the eyes of the children of wealthy Mpongwe headmen 
who themselves owned slaves. The mark slavery had 
made on these poor children never wore out from their 
character, notwithstanding the equality the Mission 
had officially given them. Their habits betrayed the 
humble origin of at least four of them, as members of 
some interior dwarf tribe. Most of them stole, from 
mere force of habit, when they no longer had need to 
do so. In the midst of good food, some of them kept 
up their early habit of eating clay. Their manner was 
furtive, their traits ignoble and treacherous ; and the dis- 
positions of two of them cruel. But they were all in- 
telligent, and, especially the boys, learned to read rapidly. 
In six weeks after their arrival some of them were read- 
ing easy words; "and in three months they were learn- 
ing verses in Mpongwe Gospel of St. John." They all 
of them subsequently professed Christianity. 

One of the four boys was named Jack. I remember 
seeing him on my visits to Baraka from my own station 
on Corisco island and at the Benita River, at various 
times between 1861 and 1871. He had learned to read, 
and had acquired some little knowledge; but he had 
no taste for books. His line of usefulness developed 
into that of a cook. Though he had not much skill in 
this art, a valuable point about him was that he was per- 
manent. As his home was Baraka, he was always on 
hand, and was not liable to leave without notice, as the 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 75 

free Mpongwe cooks constantly did on slight provoca- 
tion. He did not attempt to run away into trade ; he had 
not enough wit for finance. He was made somewhat 
of a butt by the school girls for their jokes, which he 
generally bore patiently. But, intemperance was his 
failing; and when he yielded to it, his words were curses 
and his acts dangerous. He is dead. Notwithstanding 
his failings, there was hope in his death. 

A second boy was named Maruga. His intelligence 
was quicker than Jack's. Mrs. Preston wrote of him: 
"It was funny to see little Maruga lying on his back, 
kicking up his heels, and groaning over his task (of 
learning a verse of Scripture to be repeated at morning 
worship). 'O! these verses will be the death of me yet.' 
I heard him say. But when the boys came to read the 
Bible stories around the table in my room, they liked 
it better." 

His line of usefulness developed into that of a cow- 
herd. Baraka, at that time, kept a herd of a dozen 
cows, enjoyed its own fresh milk and cream, and occasion- 
ally a little butter, until the depredations of the cattle 
on the native plantations caused the local French magis- 
trate's decision that they must be fenced in. Fencing 
was too expensive; and the cattle were sold. Maruga 
was kind to animals, and could manage the only par- 
tially domesticated cows, which would not "let down" 
their milk unless their calves were near them, and 
which immediately "went dry" if their calf died. Dur- 
ing my residence at Benita Station in 1869, cow's milk 
became a necessity for the life of my infant son. I ob- 
tained a cow from Baraka, and Maruga was sent along 
for a few weeks to teach my Kombe tribe employees 



76 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

how to take care of and how to milk the cow. He did 
his duty well and skillfully. He died in early manhood, 
and in Christian hope. 

The third boy was Retenlo. He was of intelligence 
still brighter than Maruga's, but his temper was some- 
times objectionable, and he was impatient of steady 
work. His line of usefulness developed into that of a 
valet. When I went to pioneer the Ogowe in 1874, I 
was unable to speak the Mpongwe dialect. I spoke the 
Benga, and I expected to meet a tribe, the Okota, which 
was cognate with Benga. I took with me a Benga-Eng- 
lish-speaking Kombe Christian young man from Benita, 
as my cook and general house-helper. I did not reach 
the Okota tribe, and for two years I stayed among the 
Bakele people, their dialect being slightly cognate to 
the Benga. But when, in 1876, I had to settle among 
the Galwa, a Mpongwe-speaking tribe, my Benga was 
of no use. The Rev. Dr. Bushnell of Libreville sent 
Retenlo to me as interpreter and general assistant. He 
was competent; but he had come unwillingly; and he 
wearied of my service. And not only mine, but on re- 
turning to Dr. Bushnell, he abandoned him also, and 
went off into trade with its temptations of liquor and 
Sabbath-breaking. He was a church-member. I do 
not know the place, or time or circumstances of his death. 

The fourth boy, Njambia, got tired of school and 
work, and thought he would have an easier time by 
running away. I do not know what became of him, 
whether he fell into the hands of some other tribe and 
was reduced to slavery, or whether he soon died. 

Of the two girls, Pale, or (as her name was Anglicised) 
Polly, was painfully deformed by her mouth being drawn 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 77 

to one side. Also, having fallen, during an epileptic fit, 
into the fire that burns constantly in the centre of the 
clay floor of ordinary native houses, one of her legs was 
so severely burned as permanently to lame her. She 
was naturally of a kind and affectionate disposition; 
but, having been so often unkindly twitted by other girls 
because of her deformities, her temper was spoiled, and 
she would fly into dreadful passions. She was in Mrs. 
Nassau's employ for a short time while I was stationed 
at Benita in the Kombe tribe, ninety miles north of 
Gaboon, and at that time she was grown to womanhood. 
With us she was obedient and affectionate. But she 
was ever ready to take offense at what she called " curses " 
(really only insults) from other natives; and we were 
frequently annoyed by our having to listen to the petty 
wordy quarrels brought to us for judgment. Her own 
mind, not well balanced, was the cause of some of these 
quarrels. She married a young Kombe man. It was 
not a happy marriage. He made a practical slave of her; 
and I had to interfere. 

She was at heart a good woman. She died a few years 
after her marriage, with her faith clear in Jesus and the 
Resurrection. 

But of the seven re-captives the only one who lived to 
become of extended usefulness was the larger of the two 
girls, who had been given an English name "Julia." 
Physically she was normally developed, as she seemed 
to have come from a tribe different from the other 
dwarfish ones. She grew up from "little" girlhood to 
"big" girlhood, and thence to young womanhood; and, 
as a young woman, was relied on by Mrs. Bushnell as her 
chief servant, and subsequently as assistant teacher. 



78 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

She was given these positions, not so much because of 
a special fitness, but because of her availability and 
her subserviency. Having no home but Baraka, she was 
always available ; and having no tribal bonds, her willing- 
ness to act as spy made her subservient to the discipline 
of the school, and gained for her at least missionary 
commendation in her positions of brief authority. But 
even while thus employed, she was known by some of the 
other girls to be not only severe and even cruel to them, 
but deceitful to the very missionaries who trusted her. 

Some of the younger girls retained all their lives bitter 
memories because of her cruelty to them. She married 
well; but her low characteristics followed her into her 
married life; and these, together with a quarrelsome 
tongue, were among the causes that led to her desertion 
by her Mpongwe husband. 

With her only child, a daughter, she then returned to 
the Baraka home, where she obtained employment as 
matron. 

Divine grace gradually refined her nature, so that 
notwithstanding the ungenerous traits that clung to 
her to the very last of her life, she was employed by the 
Mission as a Biblereader, and became quite useful in 
village itineration. 

She lived, as grand-mother, to see her daughter's 
family of attractive little children around her. Under a 
surgical operation, she died a number of years ago, re- 
spected for her church evangelistic work. 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 79 



Tale, No. 9. 
A Little Fag's Experience. 

THE school children were very unlike in many 
respects. Most were free-born ; some slave; some 
the children of slaves. The parents of some 
were poor; of some rich. Some of the children of the rich 
were proud and haughty. 

They differed in character, both poor and rich, slave 
and free. Some were kind, always kind; some chose 
to be ugly in speech and cruel to others. This made 
trouble and much sorrow for the younger children, and 
even spoiled their characters. Under severity, though 
they would be obedient, yet only through fear; and 
they learned to be deceitful. Being oppressed, some 
were actually made to be rebellious and disobedient. 
Especially if the older ones had been given formal au- 
thority or charge over the younger ones. Sometimes 
when these younger ones were ill-treated by the older 
ones, they would keep their wrongs in mind and go and 
tell these things to their parents in their village when 
they had a chance; or else would run away to their 
homes to escape persecution by these older girls. They 
did this, not because they did not like books, or the mis- 
sionaries, but just because of ill-treatment by a few cruel 
large girls. This made them dislike to live in the Mission. 

On the other hand, some little girls were afraid to dare 
to tell their parents, or even the missionary, how they 
were being treated, and they suffered in silence while they 
were living in daily terror. 



80 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

In this Tale, I tell of what happened between one little 
fag and the big girl in whose care she had been placed. 
The little girl, grown to be a woman, told me herself. She 
is not now living. 

When that little girl first came to the school, this big 
girl was Mrs. Bushnell's trusted assistant. The child was 
the youngest of all the pupils at that time, about 1858. 
She was only about five years old. In her parents' home 
she had known nothing but kindness; her father always 
bought her abundance of nice things, and by his many 
servants she had been treated tenderly. She was too 
young to obey all school rules. So Mrs. Bushnell took her, 
not so much as a pupil, but as if she were her own child, 
and used to take much care of her herself. Certain 
works that had to be done for her were to be performed 
by this native assistant, to whose care she was committed. 
In making this arrangement Mrs. Bushnell thought she 
was doing well for her little protege, by putting her in 
the especial care of her trusted big girl. But it turned 
out to be the very worst for the child. That assistant 
was hard in her treatment of her all the time. She 
constantly acted to her unkindly, without cause, as far 
as the child knew. On the little girl's part, she had, in 
childlike confidence, accepted that assistant, was ready 
to like her, and called her "ngwe" (mother). But that 
infantile affection did not seem to soften the older girl 
or make things any better at all for the younger. The 
older one's apparent hatred of the younger one only grew 
more and more marked. So that whenever she had a 
chance to give the child pain, when the Mistress was not 
near, she would do it. She would call the child inside the 
school room alone or behind the school-house, and seek 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 81 

occasion for discipline by charging her with having 
committed some small offence, e. g., that she had spilled 
water on the floor, or had left a garment out of place. 
If the child denied or tried to defend herself against the 
charge, she would give her a hard knock; or she would 
step on the child's foot, putting her own big toe bent, 
so as to dig the toe-nail into the child's flesh. Or, she 
would seize a fold of the skin of the child's abdomen and 
twist it hard; or, catching her by an ear, would jerk her 
about. All this while, with terrible threats, she would 
not allow the child to scream or make any loud outcry; 
she could only whimper in fear. This the young woman 
did so often that the child, living in constant dread of her 
especially when they happened to be alone, actually lost 
appetite and became sick. Yet, under fear of the threats, 
she dared not tell the Mistress, nor, when under torture, 
did she dare make an outcry, lest the older girl should 
be still harder on her, who always made fearful sug- 
gestions of what she would do if the child informed on her. 
It happened one day that this little girl was sent by 
the Mistress on an errand to the yard of the "Upper" 
house. The Baraka premises are a small hill or ridge 
on the top of which was Rev. Mr. Walker's house and the 
Boys' School; a few hundred yards distant lower down 
was Mrs. Bushnell's dwelling-house and Girls' School. 
Both families had their special girl and boy household 
assistants. A cousin of the child, by name Lizzie, lived 
in the household of the upper yard; she was one of the 
big girls there, as large as the little girl's tormentor. She 
was surprised to see the child looking so thin and dis- 
tressed, and asked her if she was sick. These kind in- 
quiries opened the little one's lips; and she dared to con- 



82 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

fide to her cousin that it was just because of the young 
woman's ill-treatment of her that she was sick. Her 
cousin asked her more questions ; and she told her every- 
thing. The cousin was much surprised, and very much 
displeased. She said she knew that the big girls were 
sometimes hard on their little fags, but had never heard 
of one being so cruel as this young woman was. She 
asked the child why she had not informed the Mistress; 
and the child told her about the young woman's threats. 
Then the cousin said, "If that is so, I feel like fighting 
her myself. But as we big girls are not allowed to fight 
in this yard of Mr. Walker, I cannot go to make confusion 
on Mrs. Bushnell's yard; and as you yourself are afraid 
to tell even your parents, I will see that girl is put a stop 
to ; for I will go and call our young aunt Anyure, who is 
about the same age as this girl and myself. Then Anyure 
and I we two will find her when she is outside the two 
yards down at the spring, and we will have a good fight 
with her there." So, the next day, the cousin went 
down to town to tell the aunt the cruel story. She was 
very much put out about it, dressed herself for a fight, 
and came up to Baraka. Her niece Lizzie had first re- 
turned to her own (Mr. Walker's) yard; and the aunt 
following openly entered Mrs. Bushnell's yard, and called 
her little niece, and said, "Call that big girl to me here. 
Tell her that if she considers herself a woman, she must 
go with me and fight for what she has been doing to 
you." Also she blamed the little girl for having kept 
silent about such things. The child went to the school- 
house to call the young woman, and told her what her 
aunt had said. When this assistant came out of the 
school-house, instead of going straight to the yard to the 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 83 

aunt, she avoided her and went across to the dwelling- 
house of the Mistress, thus showing that she was afraid 
of Anyure. The latter saw her going, and called to her 
not to go to that house, and not to speak to the Mistress. 
But the other went on, and made only a vague reply. 
So the aunt kept calling to her, "Don't you go there! 
The Mistress will hear your voice." But the other cow- 
ardly went there for refuge, stood on the veranda of the 
dwelling-house, and began to talk loudly, purposely that 
the Mistress might hear and come and protect her. Still 
the aunt kept saying, "Don't you talk there! Come 
outside this yard and face me! " 

The Mistress heard the loud talking, and came out on 
to the veranda to see what was the matter. The assistant 
told her, "Anyure has come here to try to fight me." 
Then Mrs. Bushnell told Anyure that there could be no 
fighting in her yard. Anyure respectfully replied, "I 
have more sense than to come and fight in your yard. 
I called her to come outside." So Anyure said to the 
other, "Well! you are brave against a weak little child; 
and a coward that you won't come and meet me. I go. 
But I'll watch my chance! " And she turned to her 
little niece, and bade her, openly before Mrs. Bushnell 
and the assistant, that whatever the latter did or 
threatened to do to her, she was to come straight to town 
and tell her: "Then I'll fight her whenever I see her 
walking in the villages or off the Mission premises." 
From that minute the child felt free from fear. A great 
burden was lifted from her young life. Mrs. Bushnell 
had left the veranda, and had gone back into her house. 
The assistant turned toward the child and said spitefully, 
" Thank you, for telling on me to your aunt!" The child 



84 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

had no more fear of her, and dared to reply, "Yes, I told; 
and I don't want to have anything more to do with you, 
nor you to take care of me. Leave me alone. I will 
try to take care of myself." Though she was not able 
to do it, she began at once to try and do up her own cloth- 
ing. For, from that day she was free from that young 
woman's control. Mrs. Bushnell did not require her to 
go back to her; nor, on the other hand, did Mrs. Bushnell 
publicly investigate this affair. Perhaps she began to 
doubt her assistant, and her eyes began to see through 
her duplicity ; for, she had heard enough from that young 
aunt to understand that something was wrong. But the 
young woman had been her favorite, and, for very shame, 
she would save so big a girl an examination that would 
have degraded her from her trusted position, if witnesses 
of other offences against Mrs. Bushnell herself had been 
called in, now that other sufferers saw that they could 
speak and not be beaten down. 

The lonely little girl tried to do her own washing; and 
she got some big girls, who she knew were kind, to help 
her with the rinsing and ironing. She would go to them 
timidly smiling, and say, "Please do this for me, and 
I will do some little errands for you; " and they did it. 

But this could not last long; for she was too small, 
and was not strong. Shortly after this, one of the "big" 
girls, a daughter of another wealthy Trade-man, her- 
self voluntarily took her. She was a very kind and 
amiable girl; and the little one made the advance, 
"Won't you take me?" And she was pleased to do so, 
without any formal assignment by Mrs. Bushnell. So 
she took the child, and was very kind to her, in making 
and mending her clothes, and in arranging her hair. 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 85 

She never gave the child a harsh word or one single 
blow. Whenever she was ironing or doing other works, 
the loving little one would stand by her side watching 
closely so as to learn, and happy to do any small errands 
for her. 

Not long afterward this amiable girl married, and the 
younger one was very sorry indeed to part with her; for 
she was attached to her as to an older sister, and she 
missed her very much when she left the school. The 
older one is still living; and as long as the other one 
lived, the two women loved each other. They did not 
forget those days; and, when they visited each other, 
they talked about all that happened when they were 
school-girls. 

By the time that this older one left school, the younger 
had learned some things, and was old enough to begin to 
look out for herself. 

Her tormentor escaped punishment at the hands of 
that young aunt ; but she never dared to touch the child 
again. She remained long in the Mission's employ. The 
little girl grew to be a "big" girl alongside of her, but 
magnanimously bore no ill-will for the cruelty to her in 
her childhood. They did not speak of those past things. 
The two women often had to work together, as the grown 
up child was now used by the Mission as assistant teacher. 
But the other one never was friendly to her, though they 
both were professing Christians and church-members. 
Her malice toward the younger continued to be shown 
by mean insinuations against her, long after they both 
had ceased to have any connection with the school, and 
even after she herself had become a grandmother of 
little children. They both are dead. The elder died a 



86 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

number of years before the younger. Religion some- 
what refined her ; sickness mollified her ; but even in her 
best days, when she and the girl, fifteen years younger 
than herself, who had been her school-fag, were grown 
women, she would not affiliate with her. Perhaps 
it was impossible for two such contrary natures to 
affiliate: the younger, free-born, noble, magnanimous, 
truthful, and ready to forgive the wrong that had been 
done her; the older one, of low birth, ignoble, suspicious, 
deceitful, and apparently unable to get over the shame 
of the public exposure that young aunt had made of her 
treatment of her little fag. 



tales out of school. 87 

Tale, No. 10. 
Friendships and Pastimes. 

IN school, the children had many different ways of 
making friendships; as also of arousing enmities. 
Some would at times start up a quarrel, (which 
might result in an actual fight) just out of nothing. 

Some friendships were made from the very beginning 
of a child's arrival, two saying, "Let us be friends and 
have no quarrels at all." Sometimes this amicable 
agreement was kept. At other times, if one of the two 
was a little more disposed to be vexatious than the other, 
she would start an altercation even with her friend. 
Perhaps that friend would take it up. Then, soon after 
their difference, they would make up again, and retain 
their friendship. But, instead of taking up the offense, 
the more peaceable one would sometimes say, "Are you 
going to quarrel with me? I thought you promised 
not to. Let us not quarrel, lest others laugh at us for 
breaking our bargain." Then they would be at peace. 
They would be seen most of the time together, when 
out of regular school duties ; always together in any kind 
of play. Among the plays, one of which the children 
were very fond, was the stringing of many kinds of colored 
beads. These they wore as chains on their necks, wrists 
and ankles. Another play was the making of rag-dolls; 
or, instead of rags, was used a section, about a foot long, 
of the pithy heart of a plantain stalk. Longitudinally 
through this stalk run many strong fibres. The girls 
would beat one end, so as to pound away the pithy pulp, 
leaving only the fiber, which would represent the hair 



88> TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

of a human head. This fiber they would plait and braid 
just as the older girls braided their own hair into asara 
(chignons) . Really, the first lessons in the art of dressing 
their own hair were obtained in working over the fibers 
of these pieces of plantain-stalk. The rest of the stalk, 
representing the doll's body, would be covered with a 
rag, tied in the native style of cloth. There was a great 
deal of playing at ''Young Mother," with these doll- 
babies. After properly fixing up the doll's hair and 
clothing, the girls would take their own turban hand- 
kerchief to tie as a nyamba (sling) . [Instead of carrying 
a babe in arms, the real native mode is to have a long 
piece of cloth, made sometimes of native woody fiber, 
hung as a sling from one shoulder of the mother, generally 
the right, across to her left hip. The infant sits in the 
bight of the sling, its legs astride of the mother's left hip, 
whose left arm is around its back. Her right arm is then 
free for work.] 

The little "mothers" would thus carry their doll-babies 
around to show them to others, "See ! this is my child." 
"Yes; I see it. It is very pretty. Let me handle it." 
Then it would be pulled out of the nyamba, to be fondled. 

Another play was the making of an Ulako or camp. 
A little place would be chosen under a shady tree. One 
part would be cleared as a sitting-room or parlor. In 
another part would be gathered a lot of dried leaves 
with a cloth spread over them as a bed-room ; and another 
place, a little way off, was the kitchen. The sitting- 
room and bed-room were to be "pretend;" but the 
kitchen was to be real. They would have their kitchen 
utensils ; for plates, any pieces of broken crockery, and 
for pot or kettle, empty meat cans. Before going to the 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 89 

kitchen, their babies were to be put to sleep in the bed- 
room and covered with a small piece of cloth as a quilt. 
They would leave one of their little companions to watch 
the sleeping doll-babies, the while they go off for fire- 
wood, saying, "If the child cries, call me. Or, if it cries 
very much, just take it up and fondle it till I come." 
Then after they return with their dried sticks, they would 
be sure to ask, "Has the child been crying? Has it 
made you any trouble?" Most of the time the answer 
will be, "No; not much." 

Then the little mothers will begin to do some small 
cooking in their tins. If they had saved a portion of 
fish from their own food ration or been given some from 
their villages, they used this in their play. They mixed 
it up with a pottage of greens made from sweet potato 
leaves, or from a slightly sour and mucilaginous leaf 
"okolo;" or they made a soup, throwing into it half a 
handful of rice, if they had been so fortunate as to have 
been presented with some. Sometimes all this would 
be nicely cooked, and would be enjoyed with salt and 
cayenne native pepper and an "oguma" (cassava roll) 
or plantain. But sometimes the girl who had been ap- 
pointed to manage the cooking was not skillful in setting 
the tin on the fire-place, the three stones of which were 
not always equal in size or even in height. [The in- 
variable native fire-place consists of three stones set at 
the angles of a small isosceles triangle; the faggots for 
the fire are not laid criss-cross on each other, but are 
thrust, ends under the pot, through the three open sides 
of that triangle. Very often, and always among skillful 
adult women, instead of stones, three logs are used, the 
pot resting on an end of each at the angles of that same 



90 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

triangle ; and the logs, as the ends burn away, are pushed 
forward. Smaller sticks are from time to time, as kind- 
ling wood, thrust under the pot through the open sides 
of the triangle. A draft, for retaining a constantly burn- 
ing fire, is thus obtained, better than if the faggots were 
piled up criss-cross.] 

Sometimes in her pushing a faggot under the tin, a 
dreadful accident would happen. The tin is upset from 
its precarious position, the soup extinguishes the fire, 
and the solid contents of the tin are lying in the wet 
ashes, and perhaps are not fit to be gathered up. Then, 
what an ozaza (complaint) bursts out! If there were 
two or three who expected to join in eating the food, 
some of them will begin to grumble, "A! ndo! (but) 
nyawe! (No!) What are we going to eat?" Another, 
"But I claim my part of the fish. I will not go hungry. 
You had no skill. You could have managed it if you 
had done the right way." "But I tried! I could not 
prevent it. I did not want to burn my hands." "You 
should have taken a bunch of leaves, or a fold of 
your dress, and lifted the pot off of the fire before you 
put the wood under. That would not have burned your 
hands. Then you could have fixed the stones straight, and 
put the pot on again." She replies, "Never mind! But 
I will try to do it over." She goes to get a fire-brand 
from another olako. Sometimes one will intercept her, 
saying, "But I'm not going to eat food after it has been 
on the ground." But some, if they are friendly, in order 
to comfort the unfortunate little cook, and to make up 
for having rebuked her, will share in the eating of the 
food after she has brushed off the ashes and cooked it 
again, even if they do not like it. Sometimes the little 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 91 

cook is so unskillful that the pot goes over a second time. 
Then up go the exclamations of all in disgust, and in 
ridicule, "E! E! E!" She protests, " A! never mind! 
I'll try it over." "E! try it over? What do you mean 
by that? Food taken from dirt which people have been 
treading on! Don't try it! No one will have it." Then 
perhaps a quarrel begins between the little cook and 
the one who had berated her most. Now then the fun 
of the olako is broken. Each one takes up her doll-baby 
from the bed-room, and goes and starts an olako by 
herself. Or, perhaps they make up the quarrel and go 
and begin a play of hide-and-seek; or of rope-jumping. 
Another play was " Nkegendia " (tickling) . Three or four 
will agree to take turns in being tickled. The others 
will surround the victim, and enjoy her wriggling to 
escape, as they combine to tickle her in the ribs or other 
known sensitive parts of the body. Finally she falls, and 
they all tumble in a confused heap on top of her. 

Another play was "Demb'-opa" (wrestling). But 
sometimes the friendly "opa" ended in a fight, when 
the wrestling was done roughly, so as to throw the other 
one to the ground. 

After the playing was finished, they would go back 
to the olako to collect their utensils, and put them away 
for another day, in the Girls' house. 



92 tales out of school. 

Tale, No. 11. 
Quarrels and Fighting. 

OUARRELS came from a great variety of causes. 
A common one was about the spring of water. 
When it was time for the daily work of 
bringing of water from the spring, each one of the two 
middle classes was to share in the carrying. But as 
there were only two tin dippers, and a limited number 
of pails, the strife would be who could first secure those 
utensils. 

Many a quarrel might have been prevented, and 
much annoyance to the missionary in charge, had there 
been a less unwise economy in the providing of dippers 
and pails. The girls who failed to be the first to seize 
those utensils would have to wait till the others had 
carried their stint. The object of all was to get our 
work done as soon as possible, so that we might resume 
play ; meanwhile the waiting ones would be grumbling. 
As the pails were carried on the girls' heads, which had 
more or less of pomatum, the Mistress objected to the 
pail itself being dipped into the pool. Two large tin 
dippers were to be used instead. The strife then was to 
secure the dippers. The successful one would be 
crowded with claims. "When you finish with the dipper, 
I am the second one. Another, "And I the third." 
But generally there would be several who would be 
claiming to be second or third. Then begins an alter- 
cation, each one saying, "No. I said 'second' before 
you said it." "No, it was I who spoke first." Then 
they all go down the hill to the dense cluster of West 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 93 

India bamboo trees where the spring is, all talking 
together: "I said I'd be second. You'll see I'll be it." 
Another says to the possessor of the dipper, "I'm your 
friend; hand it to me as soon as you are done." Most 
of the time the possessor of the dipper would be the one 
to settle the question, by putting the dipper into the 
chosen one's pail as soon as herself had finished. Then 
the other claimants would have to wait. But some- 
times the one with the dipper will say, "I'll not decide." 
So she lays it down, and the others grab for it. Then 
there is a contest; two have seized it, and neither will 
yield. While these two are contesting for the possession 
of the dipper, the others cannot wait, and they dip 
their pails into the pool, notwithstanding pomatum. 

The contest goes on, and one of the two presently 
gives a blow. The dipper is flung aside, and they 
grapple in a fight. The spring was a difficult spot for 
such a contest, the ground being muddy and obstructed 
by rocks and sticks. Before this contest is over, both 
parties will be covered with mud; and the stronger one 
will be trying to push the other into the pool of the 
spring. Both will have bruises from the rocks, and 
their dresses are torn to shreds. While the fight is on, 
some of the girls will stand only as spectators, others 
inciting, others trying to make peace. Sometimes it 
would continue so long that the Mistress would send one 
or two of the big girls to see what was the cause of the 
delay in the bringing of the water; and if it be a fight, 
to bring the offenders back into the yard. After in- 
quiring how the case stands, she would make them 
change their dresses, and for punishment, would compel 
them to mend the torn ones at once, — which was some- 



94 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

times almost impossible; the delinquents saying, ''But 
we are not able to mend them. Big pieces are torn out, 
and the sleeves are gone." "Then you will go and 
gather the pieces out of the mud." Sometimes they 
found very little that was available; and the dresses 
were really impossible to be mended. 

Fighting was so common that the children actually 
had made a cleared space of ground for that special 
purpose, which we called " Ereniza-mpungu " (dispute 
settler) . It was at the foot of a big rose-apple tree near 
the school-house, and out of sight of the dwelling- 
house. The fighting was held at this place at either of 
three times a day. Thus ; — Fighting after morning school 
at noon, for something said in school. A taunt having 
been made, the reply would be, "Wait until school is 
out; we'll go to Ereniza-mpungu." "All right!" As 
soon as school was out, would come the cry, "I call you 
to your promise." "Yes! No word! I'm ready!" 
Then they would go down to the place, tie up the skirts 
of their dresses, so as to keep their legs clear lest they 
trip, and the fight would begin. 

Also, after afternoon sewing school, at four o'clock. 
The taunt would be over some little matter, such as an 
accidental exchange of needles; or, "Some one broke 
my needle;" or "Some one has taken my thimble." 
"Well! wait for Ereniza-mpungu; then, out!" Also, 
an altercation at night in the bed-room over a mistake 
made in pulling at another's bed-covering instead of 
one's own. "Stop, that is mine!" Then next morning 
it was, "Ereniza-mpungu!" Also, in house-cleaning 
time, it was necessary to hide your wash-rag, so that next 
morning you would not be late to work, by having to 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 95 

look for another one, your's having been lost or stolen. 
But some one who had lost or mislaid her own, finds your 
hidden one, and takes it to another room, and is doing 
her own work as fast as she can, the while she hears you 
complaining, "Who has taken my rag from under the 
house?" No answer from any one. "I will come and 
look at each one who is cleaning and see my wash-rag and 
will take it!" Entering at each room she describes, 
"My rag! My rag is color so-and-so, from such-and- 
such an old dress or pair of pantaloons." If she finds it 
with any one, then, "What did you do that for? You 
shall clean not only your own place but mine too." 
"Ime! (what!) I won't do it." "Then you sha'n't finish 
your own." And she snatches, or tries to snatch her 
rag away. Sometimes the offender is willing to yield; 
and she asks others to let her use theirs when they are 
done. But if she is not willing to give it up before she 
has finished the room she is at, then there is a fight on 
the spot, or an appointment to Ereniza-mpungu. So 
much fighting was done at Ereniza-mpungu that the 
grass did not grow there. 

Sometimes several pairs of these duelists would be 
carrying on their contests there at the same time. They 
would be punished by the missionary for fighting; but 
they continued to do it all the same. 



96 tales out of school.' 

Tale, No. 12. 
Pranks. 

[There is something peculiar, the world over, in both heathen 
and Christian lands, about the academic conscience. Under 
the plea of "fun" and youthful exuberance, it allows, in its ethics, 
words and deeds which the Philistine code of morals denominates 
as lying, cheating and stealing. For the safety of the world, it 
is gratifying to know that these same young barbarian Bohemians, 
in after years, develop a conscience that honors the Ten Com- 
mandments in Pulpit, Press, Law, Medicine, the Market, the 
Farm and the Household, and which even beautifies the Church.] 

AS school children always are up to some kind of 
^ mischief or fun, we Baraka girls were not excep- 
tions. We did a great deal of it. If occasion did 
not present itself, we would invent some sort of mischief 
on puropse. Not with any evil intent, but thoughtlessly, 
and "for fun." It was necessary for us to laugh. If there 
was nothing to laugh at, then we made or did something 
in order to laugh. To amuse ourselves we would start up 
some funny derisive song, just for the sake of teasing the 
school-boys across the fence that divided their yard from 
ours. They dared not cross that fence to punish us for 
the insults we heaped on them. Or, we annoyed, with 
our derision, inoffensive passers-by on the public road 
that adjoined part of our premises. We were safe be- 
hind our fence; and they respected our missionaries too 
much to invade those premises, to give us the whipping 
we deserved. 

It was our fun to mimic the ungraceful step or halting 
speech of some slave men or woman; as they did not 
speak our Mpongwe language correctly, we would laugh 
and jeer at their mistakes. When the slave men with 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 97 

their women or children came each Monday from their 
plantations with food to sell to the Mission, we would 
always gather around them and stare at them closely, 
to see if we could find anything in their personal appear- 
ance at which to laugh ; or we would listen to their harsh 
bushmen-dialect, and deride their broken Mpongwe 
speech. At these their mistakes, we would break into a 
laugh. Sometimes it annoyed them very much to be 
laughed at to their very faces. Then sometimes some of 
them would begin to get vexed and to " saza " (complain) . 
But we always tried to keep out of the difficulty by going 
off a few steps from them, saying, "Now they are begin- 
ning to be vexed, it is better not to be too near them." 
And individuals of our company would begin to defend 
themselves, saying, "You are vexed at me? Do you 
think that you are the one at whom we were laughing?" 
They would reply, "But whom then are you laughing 
at? Were you sent here to the Mission to act as fools? 
To be laughing at and reviling people? Were you not 
sent here to learn to have a good head? If you dare to 
do this again to us, we will tell your Mistress; or if we 
know your parents, we will tell them in your villages." 
Then, being a little alarmed, we each would begin, "/ did 
not begin it." or "Not me." And then we would run 
away to a safe distance, shouting and teasing as we went, 
saying, " If you don't want to be teased, who told you to 
come here? Your aguma (cassava rolls) are bad; we 
won't eat any of the food you bring here to sell." [This 
was a vain threat; for, though it was true that the cass- 
ava prepared by the slaves was very much inferior to 
that carefully and cleanlily made by free women, it was 
on that same inferior plantation cassava that the school 



98 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

had to depend. The supply from free sources was not 
ample for daily need.] 

While some of these ignorant people were much an- 
noyed at what we said, others did not seem to mind it. 
They only called their children aside from us to prevent 
conflict, and laughed it off. We would notice especially 
any man or woman who had on their body always the 
same old dirty cloth; and we would revile it, saying, 
""There comes that same old cloth." Our company of 
voices would begin, "Mangi sina! (You fellows!) She 
has come back again with the same cloth! " Some- 
times we would ask them, "Have you no other cloth 
at all? You come here always with that old cloth." 
Sometimes they were not vexed, and would quietly reply 
"Yes! child, I have no other." 

One of these poor people who got the most teasing from 
us was a small dried-up little old woman whose name 
was Akanda. Her face had a constant look of trouble, 
perhaps caused by ill-health or poverty or ill-treatment. 
She belonged to Ma (Mrs.) Bessy Makei, one of the prom- 
inent church-members. She often came to sell her 
aguma; but frequently the missionary was busy at 
something else, and not ready to buy. Then she had to 
wait. While waiting, Akanda would be standing in a 
ridiculous attitude, and flies would be tormenting her 
head and feet. As these annoyed her she would be slap- 
ping them off with the end of her cloth, or would flourish 
a bunch of leaves in her hand with which to drive them 
away. While she was doing this, her poor old troubled 
face would look so doleful the children would gather 
around her and begin to make unnecessary salutation 
of repeated "Mbolo," or ask her foolish questions. In 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 99 

her simplicity she would answer the questions, looking 
quite pleased as if we were really friendly to her; while 
at the same time some were giggling and mimicing her 
flapping of the flies. The children would stand around 
her till she was through with the selling of the food and 
until she turned to go away, and then, with mock solemn- 
ity, would escort her to the gate, imitating her walk, and 
pretending to drive away flies from their own bodies. 
Then when she was outside the gate they would turn back, 
laughing and saying to her, "When are you coming 
again." This, from a playful beginning, went on till it 
became worse: she discovered that she was being made 
an object of ridicule; then she refused to enter the yard, 
but sent in her aguma to be sold by some other women 
for her. After a while she ceased to come at all. Then 
the children took notice of her absence and wondered 
why "Iya (mother) Akanda" had not come. So they 
asked of the other women, "Where is Akanda?" and were 
told, "She is quite sick." Then the children were all 
really very sorry for having ridiculed her, and we changed 
our minds about the way we should treat her. So that 
when she got better, and came again, we did not laugh 
at or jeer her, but were friendly and pitied her. But 
soon she got worse again; and she died. 

This was a lesson to us against teasing the sick and 
aged or helpless. But we still kept it up toward able- 
bodied men and women who continued to come to sell 
food. The two girls who most of all were persistent in 
this laughing and joking at these people were my sister 
Njiwo and her friend Akera. [These two girls were 
daughters of two of the most prominent families, and 
were very pretty, witty, graceful, bright at their books, 



100 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

efficient as workers in work-time, and in play-time, over- 
flowing with vivacious pranks. Akera is still living to- 
day; they became grandmothers, good Christians, and 
active members of the church.] 

The food-buying was mostly on Monday. That was 
also the very time when we were doing our clothes- 
washing, at a spot which happened to be near the food- 
house. So we saw all that was going on, and we could 
conveniently do our ridiculing without at all leaving or 
neglecting our work. We were busy with the washing 
at one end of the house, and the buying and selling was 
going on at the other end. The food-bearers, on entering 
the yard, had to pass by us, on their way to the food- 
house. If anything outlandish about them attracted 
our attention, they had to run the gauntlet of our re- 
marks. Occasionally some new bearer, who had not 
been there before, and was not accustomed to the locali- 
ties, would see us standing at our washing, would make 
a mistake and think that that was the place for buying, 
and would put down his bundle of food near us. Then 
sometimes we would direct them by telling them, " No, not 
here! Go around to the other end of the house." 

But one day it happened that a man came with a big 
load of aguma. As he was a stranger, he began to ask us, 
"I want to sell aguma. Is this the place?" Some 
said, "No, go around." Others interrupted, "Not so! 
this is the place. Stay here." So one of those two 
girls, Njiwo [with an English name, Hattie] went near to 
the man and said, "Don't listen to their talk. Listen 
to me. I'll show you the way." As the man was near 
to the steps which led up to the bath-room of the Mistress 
and thence to her bed-room, she had suddenly made up 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 101 

her mind to cause him to go up there, so that we might 
have a laugh when he should be seen and driven out by 
the indignant Mistress. She told him, "You just go up 
there. The white person is there; and you sell your 
aguma to her." The poor man believed her, and 
obeyed her directions. He went hesitatingly, as if he 
had no right to ascend the stairs. She kept near him as 
he went, he inquiring step by step, "Here? here?" 
"Yes; go on up." Some of the others began to be 
alarmed at the audacity of the joke, and protested, 
"E! E!"; because it was against the rules for any 
stranger to go to that part of the house; and they 
knew the Mistress would be very much displeased to 
find this man in her bed-room. Some began to say to 
the man, "No, don't go up there. You will bring anger 
On yourself." The man heard this, and turned and in 
his broken Mpongwe, asked, "Is it orunda (prohibited) 
for me to go up here?" His guide said, "No! it is not 
orunda. Don't listen to their talk. You go up. Just 
go in that door with your aguma. Then the white per- 
son will see it and buy it." By this time he was near the 
top of the steps. But the Mistress had heard the noise 
of the discussion from the dining-room; had come 
thence through the bed-room, and when she got to the 
bath-room, she saw this man just at the top of the steps. 
She was very much displeased, and ordered him down. 
"This is not the place at which to sell food," and she 
asked, "Who told him to go up?" But no one informed 
her; only, some said, "Aye me" (himself). The man 
was told the right place to which to go; and he went 
around to the other end of the house. And the Mistress 
went back to the dining-room. Then the children (talk- 



102 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

ing in low voices) all had a good laugh about that man. 
This was an affair that was not forgotten by us for a long 
while ; it was a great stock for fun during many Mondays. 
Another day, also a Monday, another man came with fifty 
aguma. We school children had nothing to do with the 
food-buying, it being bought for us. But that day some 
of them were hungry and offered to buy a few of the 
aguma for themselves, the while the missionary was occu- 
pied at his table. Each of those two practical jokers 
took five. [The full regular price for five aguma was 
ten cents.] One of these girls gave him a cinque-sous 
[a French coin equal to about five cents] only half price 
of the five aguma ; the other girl had a small damaged 
coin of unknown value, but which was probably uncur- 
rent and therefore worthless. The man looked at it 
doubtfully. He was not accustomed to coins; he was 
used to taking goods in barter. He asked, "Is it good 
money?" They said, "Yes." So he left the ten 
aguma, took the two coins, and went away, going down 
the streets to sell his remaining forty rolls. But when 
he went into the villages, and tried to exchange the two 
coins, he found he had been cheated. Then happened 
what most of us expected : for, soon we saw him coming 
running up the road, quite excited. 

While he had been down in the villages, the girls had 
begun to open one of the cassava-rolls and to eat of it. 
So when he came he said, "Now come! hurry, I want 
my aguma back, or more money. This one piece is not 
money. All that you gave me is only this cinque-sous." 
So Akera, who had given him the worthless coin, began 
to pretend to be vexed, as if the man himself had made 
a mistake. Her confidante and others were laughing, 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 103 

telling the man, "Is that the way you do? You are not 
telling the truth. We gave you the money all right. 
Perhaps you yourself made the mistake while down in the 
villages." But the man was positive, "No, No! this is 
the very money you gave me. Bring the rest of the 
money due, fifteen cents, or hand back my aguma." He 
was very much excited. Akera had to take back her 
worthless coin and return the five aguma. The two girls 
hurried to try to settle the affair before the Mistress 
should know anything about it, lest they should be 
blamed. So, five aguma were returned; as to the other 
five, one of which had been cut into, they induced him 
to be satisfied with the four and a half which were also 
returned; and he went away quietly. 

Another day, another man came with bottles of palm- 
oil to sell, and he asked for rum in exchange. Some of 
the children began to laugh at him, "We do not keep 
rum at the Mission. Go to the Trading-houses." But 
one of those two girls, Akera said, "You all forget the 
nice rum we have out there in that big cask." (pointing 
to our water-barrel). She took from the man two bot- 
tles of palm-oil; and with two other empty bottles, 
went to fill them with the "nice new kind of rum," as 
she called it. She filled the two bottles with the water, 
and tasted a little of it in his sight, so that he would be- 
lieve it was real rum, and asked him also to taste this 
"Odorless rum" as she called it, to prove that it was 
good, and to see whether he was pleased with it, and 
satisfied with the price. He tasted it, and hesitatingly 
admitted that it was "good." [He actually went off 
with the two bottles of (supposed) rum, believing it to 
be a new brand he had not before met with.] As soon 



104 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

as he was outside the gate, Akera, knowing that the 
man would be back again as soon as the deception was 
discovered, went to work quickly with another empty 
bottle and began to pour into it half of the contents of 
one of the palm-oil bottles, and hid it. Then she filled 
with water the empty space in the palm-oil bottle, and 
put it alongside the other full one, and sat waiting, ex- 
pecting the man's return. Soon we saw him coming 
up again. He was not excited nor hasting (as that other 
man about the coins) . He was rather quiet. One of 
his two bottles of "rum" was half empty. He said, 
"I have come to bring back the rum. I don't like it." 
"Why, what's the matter?" "It looks too much like 
water." "But did we not both taste of it? And I 
told you it was a new kind, and without odor. And 
you said you liked it." "Yes, but I don't like it now. 
I want my oil." "But where is the rum? Have you 
drunk part of it?" The man produced from his travel- 
ing-bag the two bottles of "rum," one of them only half 
full. Akera refused to accept that half empty one, 
claiming back from him all her "nice fine rum." She 
says, "You have drunk part of my rum; you must give 
me part of your oil." But he refused, saying, "Zele" 
(not so). He put down before her the two bottles of 
water, and she set before him his two bottles of oil, say- 
ing, "I won't buy from you again. You make too 
much trouble." As the oil bottles were of dark glass, 
the man did not perceive that one of them was only a 
mixture of oil and water. So he took his two bottles 
and went off, apparently satisfied. As his back was 
turned, Akera faced toward him and said in a low voice, 



TALES OUT OP SCHOOL. 105 

''You'll see the trick I have played on you." Then all 
the girls began a hearty laugh. 

The man went off to his plantation. If he discovered 
the mixture of oil and water in that bottle, he did not 
return to make ozaza (complaint) about it. 



106 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

Tale, No. 13. 
''Bird's Claws;" the Black Sheep of the Flock. 

THIS story is about a girl who had been given the 
name of "Jane Preston" after Mrs. Preston, 
one of our most amiable missionaries. 
School children always have their own plays and man- 
ners and special friends. Even the missionaries had 
their special favorites among the girls. There were 
others they did not care much about. Some of the girls 
were weak, and others strong-hearted; there were dif- 
ferences among them all. Some were friendless and 
had few relatives; some had no older sisters to defend 
and fight for them in time of trouble. So, most of the 
time the strong ones took advantage of the weak ones. 
Sometimes they would take a chance to tease them and 
try to make them cry. If the weak girl got tired of 
being treated thus, perhaps she would resent it, and 
would begin to be saucy. Then the strong ones would 
punish her for that. 

There was one girl, named Jane Preston who belonged 
to B akele people [plural of Akele, the name of an inferior 
tribe]. She was the only Akele in the yard. So, most 
of the time, she was the one to be tormented. Most of 
the school troubles came to her. She was not very 
strong-hearted, but she had a strong body, fit for fight- 
ing. She herself was up to all sorts of mischief. Some- 
times the big girls would make her stand up and revile 
herself and her own people. They would bid her stand 
and improvise a little song. The song was mostly to 
praise their Gaboon (Mpongwe) people, and to deride 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 107 

her own tribe. They would tell her how to sing and 
what to say, and she was compelled to repeat what they 
told her. The chorus of the song was, thus: — 

"The Mpongwe are very sweet (kango) 
Kango! uyamba (perfume)! kango! 

The Bakele are— Phew! Phew! Phew! 
The bad smells! " 

She used to try to steal all she could come across — 
beads, food, and everything. She would eat anything, 
even things that were not nice to eat. One day she 
was seen in Ma Bushnell's kitchen trying to get some- 
thing out of the fire. When asked, "What's that? 
What are you doing ? she replied, ' ' I am roasting some- 
thing." We asked, "What are you roasting?" but she 
made no reply. On our coming to find out, we saw that 
she was roasting legs taken from a bird whose body 
the cat had eaten the night before, and had left the legs 
as worthless. But Jane was going to roast them in the 
fire, and the fire dried up the skin on the bones of the 
legs, and had left nothing to be eaten. Nevertheless 
she tried all her best to get at the charred remains. So, 
we all had a good laugh, and used to tease her about it, 
and called her a nick-name, "Akaka m' inyani" (Bird's 
Claws). Then, too, that very morning, she had been 
stealing. It was the custom, in our setting the table 
of the missionaries, that whatever food (pieces of plan- 
tain, or meat, or anything else) was left by them, was 
allowed for the two girls who waited at table. They 
were permitted to eat it themselves, or share it with 
others, or do as they pleased with it. So this day, after 



108 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

the two "big" waiter girls had divided this little food 
between their two selves, one of them just stepped out 
doors a little while. When she came in again, her plan- 
tains were missing. She searched for them, but could 
not find them. So she said, "As it is not time for the 
other girls to be eating, I will find out who has those 
plantains. I will make all the younger girls vomit, then 
I will know who has been eating my plantains." 

So all the younger girls were called and ordered to 
drink a large quantity of tepid water, and then thrust 
their fingers down their throat to make them gag. This 
very girl, Jane, seemed glad of the order and said, 
"Yes! yes! let us all vomit, and see who stole plantains." 
This was because, though she had really stolen the 
plantains, she had not yet eaten them. So she knew 
her guilt could not be proved at that time. All of those 
girls vomited, but none ejected any plantain. So Jane 
Preston said, "Who is it that has stolen plantains? I 
think she must have thrown them away in fear." Thus 
she herself made the big girls suspect that herself was 
the thief; and soon it was proved that she had hidden 
the plantain under a plate in the pantry, intending to 
get it as soon as the expected ozaza (investigation) 
should be over. So the owner of the plantain took it, 
and this Akele girl did not get any. Many times she 
got into trouble and had punishment for stealing; but 
she would not leave it off. Even after she was married 
and had borne children, she would persist in stealing 
from the other women's gardens. 



tales out of school. 109 

Tale, No. 14. 
Esonge Climbs Out of the Window. 

[Esonge and her young husband Mayeye, and Bataka, the 
wife of Uduma, were all of them members of the adjacent Benga 
tribe. 

These two young men came to Baraka school to join the Ad- 
vanced class, some of whom were studying as candidates for the 
Ministry. The young wives were, in the mean while, to attend 
the Girls' school, partly for education, and partly to occupy their 
time. Esonge was younger and more of a girl than Bataka, who 
was very quiet and sensible.] 

ESONGE was full of mischief and up to all sorts of 
pranks. Sometimes the girls made up their 
minds deliberately to be naughty; sometimes, for 

revenge on the teacher, a Miss X , who was almost 

the only missionary lady they ever treated in that way; 
for they did not like her. 

Sometimes it was simply for the sake of mischief, 
without any evil thought. 

So, whenever Esonge happened to make up her mind 
to take a turn, we knew it at once by her face when she 
entered the school-house door. She would come in late 
and begin to give excuses. Then as we all sat down, 
she would rise up, or go out on the veranda to spit, or 
would cross the school-room, or make strange faces and 
cause the other girls to laugh, just to torment the teacher. 
Soon after she had come in she would begin to ask to go 
out for a drink of water, or other excuse. Then, soon 
after she had returned, she will again ask to go out for 
something else. If she was refused, she would pretend 
to be sulky, and would say she would go out any how. 



110 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

So, when the third time she asked to go out, the teacher 
refused. Then she started to go toward the door; but 
the teacher locked the door, and put the key in her 
pocket. Then Esonge said, "You say I won't go out? 
I say I will. You have locked the door; but how is it 
about the windows?" As the windows were long and 
wide, they had bars fastened across from the bottom 
half way up, so as to prevent the pupils falling out. 
Esonge began to climb up the bars. Then the teacher 
came and caught her by the skirt of her dress, in order 
to pull her down. When Esonge saw that it would 
take some time to get out, the while the teacher was 
holding her dress, she jumped down and said, "We'll 
see, to-day! " So she began to arrange herself, as the 
school girls did when getting ready for a fight, i. e., to 
gather up all her skirts, twist them in one roll between her 
legs, draw up the ends behind and tuck them into the 
belt around her waist, and then fasten them there with 
her turban handkerchief as a girdle. Then she started 
for the window again. All that while the teacher had 
stood by expecting to be fought; and half of the school 
were on their feet excitedly waiting for the scene of a 
fight between teacher and pupil. So Esonge says to the 
teacher, "Now, I'm going out. Come and prevent me;" 
for she knew now her dress would not hinder her, her 
legs being bared. The teacher tried to prevent her, by 
pulling at her legs as she climbed. At this, Esonge would 
give a kick, and the teacher's hands are flung off. When 
the teacher saw that Esonge had only two bars left to 
be climbed, she began to call on the larger girls for help 
to pull her down. She also said, "One of you must go 
to the other house to call Mrs. Bushnell." But the girls 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. Ill 

said, "We do not wish to go. And you've locked the 
door, and you have the key." Those few who had re- 
sponded to the call for help to pull Esonge down really 
aided her by pushing her up, the while they were pre- 
tending to pull her down. All the while that the teacher 
was saying, "Now, help! help!" as she herself was 
pulling, the others were hindering by pushing. So, 
Esonge having been helped, was finally partly outside 
of the window, there remaining yet one leg inside. Then 
we thought: "Now Esonge is out. She has gained the 
victory." But, instead of her drawing out that leg and 
completing her victory, we saw her apparently turning 
back, and that she was stationary. Then she said to 
those who had been helping her, "You! first leave me, 
for a minute." We asked, "Why? What's the matter? 
Why don't you go out?" She said, "Wait a while. 
There's the other one: I see her sister." [Meaning the 
teacher's missionary "sister" Mrs. Bushnell.] The 
noise of the riotous school had become so great that Mrs. 
Bushnell had heard it over at the dwelling-house, and 
had come out on the veranda to see what was the matter. 
So Esonge jumped back and got down inside the room 
again. Mrs. Bushnell came over to know what was 

going on. Miss X told her all about it. But, as 

Esonge was a married girl, and was considered as a 
"woman," and not as an ordinary pupil, she was not 
whipped, but was only severely rebuked. At this she 
pretended that she was very much displeased, the while 



112 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

she knew she was in the wrong. So, in her pretended dis- 
pleasure, she said she would leave and not come into 
school any more, but would remain in her husband's 
house, and do her own works. 

But this did not last very long. She could not endure 
being alone; and the second week afterward she came 
again to school. We girls were all very glad to welcome 
her back, beacuse she was one of the chief ones for 
"urogo" (mischief) and fun and play. Sometimes she 
came to lessons, and sometimes she stayed away, just 
as she pleased. We all liked her very much for her play 
and jokes. She stayed with us till she had to return to 
her home on Corisco; for she was about to become a 
mother, and we all missed her very much. That baby is 
now a young man, working as a carpenter. 






i 



tales out of school. 113 

Tale, No. 15. 
Agnes Breaks the Switches. 

ALL school children make more or less trouble at 
^ times. But the two who were always the worst 
were Agnes, and Amelia, a daughter of a rich 
head-tradesman: and the end of their difficulties with 
their teacher was always that Ma Bushnell was called 
in. She, though slender in body, was strong in de- 
cision. All the girls stood in awe of her, most of them 
respected her; and almost all loved her. She, when 
called in to settle a riot, pushed or dragged the of- 
fenders to the dwelling house, to finish their punish- 
ment there; after which they were locked up for the 
rest of the day. 

Of these two girls, Agnes was the worse, both to the 
teacher and to the other girls. Almost every day, she 
was engaged in some quarrel or fight with either the 
teacher or some fellow-pupil. Sometimes she would 
deliberately make up her mind to be troublesome in 
school to the teacher. Then, whenever the teacher 
attempted to punish her, she would seize the teacher 
and begin to fight with her. After a while, the teacher 
was tired of this fighting, and she made up her mind 
what to do. She decided to whip her, and had three 
long switches made, which would extend half way across 
the room, so as to prevent Agnes coming near her when 
she should attempt to strike her. 

So, whenever Agnes did anything that was naughty, 
the teacher would reach out this long stick and strike 
her with it, without leaving her seat. But this did not 



114 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

last long. One morning Agnes was displeased about 
her food. So, she made up her mind to be naughty 
during school. 

As soon as she went into school, she showed that she 
was not willing to obey orders, or even to recite the 
Scripture verses for the day from the tablet hanging on 
the wall, or to write in her copy-book. So, the long 
stick was extended across the room to her. Then she 
began to scold and to strike her fist on her desk, and to 
:say, "By the name of my father! you dare to do that 
again!" The teacher said, "Agnes, Silence!" Agnes 
impertinently replied, "Silence! yourself." So, the 
teacher said, "Stop! or else this whip will come on you 
again. You are showing very bad example to the other 
girls." Agnes said, "You too!" This made the teacher 
cross, and she reached out with the whip. But, before 
the whip touched Agnes's shoulder, she was up on the top 
of her bench, jumping from bench to bench toward the 
teacher to attack her. She seized the teacher's hands, 
snatched away the whip, broke it into three pieces, and 
threw them out of the window. While she was doing 
this, the teacher went to the corner of the room, and got 
another of the switches. This Agnes took hold of, broke, 
and threw out of the window, as she had done with the 
first. The teacher then went and got the third and last; 
which Agnes broke in the same way, and then turned to 
assault the teacher. It became a disgraceful scuffle of 
pushing and resisting by both the teacher and pupil. 
Just before this, while the teacher was trying to use the 
switches, she had called on me to assist her. I did so, by 
trying to hold Agnes's hands; but the latter was stronger 
than I. When the matter grew to an actual fight, and 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 115 

Agnes was scolding and insulting, the teacher sent word 
for Ma Bushnell to come and assist her. Mrs. Bushnell 

came from the dwelling-house. Miss X told her all 

that had happened. Mrs. Bushnell had to send for her 
own switches from the other house. When they were 
brought, she gave Agnes a thorough beating. Agnes 
attempted to resist even her; but Mrs. Bushnell, though 
physically slight, was so determined and fearless, and 
her will so strong, that no one could successfully resist 
her. She had an art in striking to know where to hit 
on spots that would hurt and yet not make a permanant 
injury. After the flogging, Agnes was locked up all day 
as additional punishment. That day she got the worst 
in her attempt to make trouble, for her hands and lips 
and feet were bruised and cut. This contest had taken 
so long a time, and the rest of the pupils were all so 
excited, and every thing was in such confusion that, it 
being near noon, school was dismissed. Agnes married ; 
lost her bold manner; and died many years ago. 



116 tales out of school. 

Tale, No. 16. 
Wasted Privileges. 

EACH missionary lady or gentleman had their 
favorite boy or girl, the choice of whom de- 
pended mostly on the child's character; but 
somewhat also on the social position of the child's 
family. A prominent native gentleman, Sonie John 
Harrington, was a great friend to the missionaries. He 
himself had been taught and brought up in the Mis- 
sion. Though his wealth and trade had led him 
away, so that he had many women for his wives, he 
was interested in the success of the Mission and 
helped it in many ways. His great desire was to 
have his children well taught and well brought up. 
So they were all sent to the school, one after another, 
as soon as at all able to learn books. Of his favorite 
wife, his first-born and favorite daughter was named in 
childhood by her mother, Fando, and subsequently, 
A-nye-ntyu-we. But her father, from the first, had called 
her Jane. Because the missionaries found "Anyentyu- 
we" a difficult word to pronounce, they also called her 
Jane, or (to distinguish her from another pupil Jane 
Preston) "Janie." Of all the Harrington children, she 
was the first to be sent to school, before she was five years 
of age. The missionaries liked the Harrington children; 
and gave them their attention. Jane was especially 
committed to Mrs. Bushnell's care, who took her as her 
little pet. (It was she who gave me most of these Tales.) 
A few years after this, Mrs. Bushnell went on a fur- 
lough to the United States. John Harrington asked her 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 117 

to take Janie with her, for the sake of the benefit of a 
view of civilization in America. It was the custom at 
that time, for most missionaries on furlough to bring 
with them some child, on various pleas of necessity or 
pleasure. The effect on some children was beneficial, 
if they were already possessed of noble elements of char- 
acter; if not, the effect was disastrous. Sonie had rightly 
judged the noble character of his daughter Jane. But 
Mrs. Bushnell thought she better not take her. She 
said Janie was too young to stand winter weather in 
America; she should wait till the next time. 

So Mrs. Bushnell went away; and the School was left 
in the hands of Mrs. Preston. As this gentle lady suf- 
fered much from severe headaches, all the youngest 
children were sent to their homes, to relieve her. And 
Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Preston were in charge of the station. 
But as, unfortunately, Mr. Preston and John Harring- 
ton were not on friendly terms, little Janie was tempor- 
arily removed and was placed in the care of "Ma Bessy," 
Mrs. Bessy Makei, a Bible-woman in employ of the 
mission and wife of a Mpongwe man whose house was, 
by special permission, erected on the mission premises. 
When Mrs. Bushnell returned two years later from her 
furlough, Janie and all the other smaller children came 
back to her. Those of her sisters or half-sisters and 
brothers or half-brothers, who were old enough, were 
sent along with her; including her own sister Njiwo 
("Hattie"); and half-sister Ngwanjanga ("Alida"); 
brothers Nyilino, Ntyarere, Antyuwa, Renambi; and 
later on, came her own favorite brother Sonie; and 
others still later. These children all tried to do their 
best in order to win credit for themselves and to honor 



118 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

their family name. Alida had a good head to learn 
books rapidly; but she was sometimes a little care- 
less and neglectful of other duties. Mrs. Bushnell 
tried her best to bring her on in fancy-work of neat 
sewing and other pretty things, so that she would be 
equal to the others. 

When next time came around for Mrs. Bushnell to 
have a furlough, she was to take with her to America 
an infant daughter of Mrs. Menaul (a missionary resid- 
ing on Corisco island) and she needed a native girl to go 
with her and assist her with the child. She asked John 
Harrington to let her have Alida to go with her. He 
said, "No, better take Jane, not Alida." But Mrs. 
Bushnell observed, that of the two girls, the years 
suited better of Alida's age between youth and approach- 
ing womanhood. So he, to please the missionary, but 
against his own judgment, yielded to her. And Alida's 
clothes were made ready, and she went with Mrs. Bush- 
nell to the United States. 

While they were still in America, John Harrington 
took sick and died. At the end of another two years, 
Mrs. Bushnell and Alida returned. She had improved 
in looks, and had grown to be quite a tall girl. Mrs. 
Bushnell was surprised to see the other Harrington 
daughters also grown up to be large girls. While in the 
United States, Mrs. Bushnell had taken very great in- 
terest in Alida, and much attention had been shown to 
her by friends of Missions. She had been placed in a 
good school; money and sympathy had been spent on 
her. She had professed conversion; united with the 
church of Rev. Dr. Booth of New York City, and in her 
baptism was given his family name. Mrs. Bushnell 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 119 

thought that all this would have improved her, and that 
she would start in the Baraka school again, at the top 
of every thing. By her having been to a civilized coun- 
try, having seen many new things and good examples, 
she had chances beyond the rest of her sisters. So Mrs. 
Bushnell tried earnestly to encourage her, and keep her 
on in the high place at which she was started. She 
kept her always near her side. 

But the journey to America had not benefited Alida. 
All these privileges seemed as if they were nothing to 
her. She began to go down, down; and she drifted 
away from any love or even respect for Mrs. Bushnell. 
She began by being intentionally disobedient, saucy and 
very careless about whatever work she had to do.] 



When a few of the girls were called in to a special 
class to be taught dress-making, i. e., to cut and sew 
their own dresses, Mrs. Bushnell would teach them how 
to begin right from the very first cut of the scissors, so 
as to have every thing exact and of proper length and 
size, and thus not waste material or spoil the fit of the 
dress. All this the others did; they obeyed, and tried 
their best to follow. Of course they made some little 
mistakes; but only through misunderstanding, and not 
intentionally or neglectfully. But Alida was very care- 
less, and took no thought against wasting cloth, etc. 
She would go recklessly cutting and tearing, without 
asking for directions. Then soon she would pronounce 
herself, "I've finished! ready for sewing!" But 
presently, after starting her sewing, she would find her- 
self sticking fast in some difficulty, — breadths differing 
in length, — and not enough material to change them: 



120 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

and the garment had to be pieced out. Discovering her 
difficulty, she would say in a loud angry voice, "The 
breadths are not even; one is quite short; I will not be 
able to get a hem on this ! ' ' When she was rebuked for 
her carelessness, she would turn around and put the 
blame on Mrs. Bushnell, saying, "But who gave me the 
measure? Not you? So the mistake is yours, not 
mine!" Then the teacher would take the material and 
the measure, and show her where it was that she started 
wrong. The rest of the sewing went in the same way ; 
for, in making the sleeves, she would be sure to have 
some mistake in the cutting. In their sewing, Mrs. 
Bushnell tried to teach the girls to do every thing very 
nicely, hemming, back-stitching, felling seams, making 
neat button-holes, and putting on buttons in a straight 
line or regular distances ; to run stitches of even lengths ; 
to lay the gathers; and not to muss up the material. 
These things all the girls did excepting Alida. She was 
not able to get praise for neat sewing; all her work was 
coarsely done. When rebuked, she did not try to do 
better, but got vexed, and would have an altercation 
with the Mistress. When the "big girls," after the 
smaller ones had gone to bed, as usual, spent the evening 
together in the missionary dining room, sewing, reading 
or studying, Alida would spend the most of her time in 
hunting something to eat, though it was against the rule 
to eat late in their bed-room. Sometimes then Mrs. 
Bushnell would go to look at her pantry food-safe, and 
would set apart one or two dishes which she did not care 
to retain for herself, and say to the girls, "This you 
may have, I will not keep it." She meant that they 
were to eat it next morning. As soon as Mrs. Bushnell 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 121 

left the dining-room, Alida would go and open the safe, 
and pull out one or both of the dishes. The others 
would say, "Do not touch the safe!" Then she says, 
"I am not stealing. The Mistress said it belongs to us 
girls." And she would begin to eat whatever it was, 
rice, or pie, or pudding. Soon Mrs. Bushnell will hear 
the rattle of the spoon on the plate. She comes and 
stands at the door to see who is eating; and finds Alida 
at the food, while the others are all busy at their occu- 
pations, — reading, sewing, learning lessons, cutting out, 
or mending. When Mrs. Bushnell saw all this, she 
would say to Alida, "I knew it would be you, and that 
the others would be properly occupied." Alida replies, 
" I was not stealing. You gave it to us. And I'm hungry. 
Why do you wish another woman's child to starve?" 

[It happened one evening that Janie was busy ironing 
till after 7 o'clock. She had not eaten her supper; and 
it was her habit not to eat food late, if she failed to get 
it at the proper evening hour. So she had not eaten at 
all, and she had set aside her food, keeping it for the 
next day. Alida said she felt hungry; that she had not 
satisfied her appetite at supper. So Janie told her, "As 
my supper is laid aside, then take it, if you wish it and 
you feel hungry." This was just before their bed time. 
So Alida said that, as she would not have time to eat it 
outisde, she would eat it in her room, just before lying 
down. Janie warned her and said to her, "Where will 
you get water to drink or to wash your hands with, as 
you will have none in the room?" She said, "I have 
oranges, I will drink the juice for water." She had a 
lot of oranges hid behind her clothes box; (which was 
also against Rule). As it was a moonlight night, she 



122 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

sat down near the window in the dormitory with her 
plate of food. After she had finished eating, she pulled 
out two oranges from behind the box, and began to 
peel them. Then, as the odor of the pungent oil in the 
fresh skins went through the thin walls, Mrs. Bushnell 
perceived it, and at first went outside on the rear veranda, 
thinking someone was eating oranges there. She saw 
no one there; and then she suspected that the eating 
must be in the girls' bed-room. When she stood out- 
side the door asking, Alida was the first one to answer, 
"We have no oranges here. Whom did you see eating 
oranges?" While, at that very moment she was 
hastily swallowing the orange, so as to have it out of 
sight before Mrs. Bushnell should come in. Mrs. Bush- 
nell said again, "You have oranges there, I smell them." 
Alida again insisted, "We have none." Mrs. Bushnell 
declared, "I know you have; and if I come there, I will 
find them!" Alida daringly said, "Come and have a 
look, if you will find any!" She forgot Mrs. Bushnell 
would come with a light; and then the hidden oranges 
would be found. All the other girls were lying awake 
in their beds, listening to all this, the while that Alida 
was sitting up, eating at her oranges, and talking thus 
impertinently back to Mrs. Bushnell. Mrs. Bushnell 
went to the dining-room, took a lamp, and came into the 
bed-room to search for the oranges. As soon as Alida 
saw the light coming, and she had not finished her 
second orange, she flung it into a corner. But Mrs. 
Bushnell heard and followed the direction of the sound; 
she held the light low, and searched behind Alida's box, 
looking steadily at her face while doing this. The other 
girls could see the look of pain and grief on Mrs. Bush- 
nell's face. Her heart was hurt. After Mrs. Bushnell 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 123 

had gathered all the oranges in her apron, she turned 
around to rebuke Alida, "You said you had no oranges! 
What is this? Shame on you!" Alida sat there, her 
face covered with shame; but looking very much dis- 
pleased, and having very little to say for herself. She 
was not repentent, and would have liked to have dis- 
puted; but she knew she was guilty and could not 
deny it. 

After Mrs. Bushnell had gone out, the other girls, 
though surprised and awed at Alida' s audacity, could 
not help laughing at the strait into which she had brought 
herself.] 

The next day things were not very pleasant between 
Alida and Mrs. Bushnell. 

It did not take many days after that, that she got into 
trouble again; and, big girl as she was, she had to be 
given a severe whipping. She got into trouble so often, 
that Mrs. Bushnell turned on her one day, saying, "John 
Harrington knew best! I wish I had not taken you to 
America! I wish I had yielded to his preference! I think, 
as he was your father, he knew your characters better 
than I." Alida retorted daringly, "I don't care! You 
took me. I did not go myself. And I'm back again. 
That is finished. Am I not to do as I please, just be- 
cause you took me to America?" [To be "taken to 
America" was, by almost every school boy or girl, 
considered a great privilege. Every furloughed mission- 
ary was besiged with petitions for the favor. Apparently, 
Alida resented having been reminded of the favor.] Her 
falling into offenses and censure became more and more 
frequent ; she had to be punished so often that it became 
a great grief to Mrs. Bushnell. She warned her, "I'm 
very sorry thinking of your future. From what I see of 



124 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

you now, if this continues, you will not make a good 
woman. Things will go very badly with you: and your 
husband, whoever he shall be, will not be satisfied with 
you. You will be punished and even beaten by him." 
But Alida was reckless, and said, "You are not my 
mother! How is it that you pronounce a curse on my 
life?" Mrs. Bushnell often repeated her warning; and 
mentioned also three other girls, who, she said, would also 
be beaten by their future husbands : and others still, who, 
she said, would never be beaten. 

As the large girls grew up to be young women, Alida 
was the last of their company to be degraded by a whip- 
ping. The others were considered to be beyond that. 
If they needed punishment, it was given in other ways. 

[She reached young womanhood and finished her 
studies. Mrs. Bushnell, hoping still to influence her, 
and to make something useful of her, advanced her as 
assistant teacher of the small children. She was com- 
petent for teaching books, but she took no interest in 
her pupils; and she never succeeded in any neat sewing- 
work. She was married to a most promising young man. 
Her prospect was brighter than of any of the rest of her 
sisters. Her outlook with him was very fine. But she 
ruined both him and herself. They separated. 

She is still living. To this day she has proved that 
her life is exactly as Mrs. Bushnell had forewarned. All 
of whose prophecies about her and the other girls, 
whether for good or evil, have since then proved true. 
While drifting through several unfaithful marriages, 
neglecting all church services, and sinking even into in- 
temperance, she always retained her audacity. Just 
lately, as I close this tale, she is again attending church, 
and professing a desire to return from her wanderings.] 



tales out of school. 125 

Tale, No. 17. 
Fando Runs Away. 

[This Tale is the only one of the series of which I took notes 
on the spot, as my informant narrated it. She was the only one 
of the three former school-girls, who, in giving me their reminis- 
cences, was willing that I should reveal her name.] 

THIS is a story of my own badness. It was while 
Mrs. Walker was in charge; and I was about fif- 
teen years of age. 

As a school-girl I was generally good. But I liked 
fun, and I was often mischievous. But I did not allow 
my fun to go too far. Other girls, who were joined in 
the same pranks, would forget themselves, and would go 
on recklessly with the affair after I had stopped and had 
asked them to stop too. 

When investigation came, I could truthfully say, "It 
was not I." Others got whipping as a punishment for 
their offenses. I was too proud to allow myself to be 
struck, and I therefore stopped my mischief before it went 
so far as to deserve whipping. 

It was a rule of school that, after going to bed, we 
should be quiet. But the rule was not always well 
obeyed; partly because it was not well understood. 
What was "quiet?" Not to play, or not to sing, or not 
to talk, or not even to whisper? We all thought we 
were " quiet " when we talked only in an undertone. We 
told fairy tales and legends and "inkano" [continued 
cumulative native stories, like "House that Jack Built," 
or the "Arabian Knights."] 

Some inkano had, as a part of them, a song which we 
would sing in a low voice. That far was considered to 
be "quiet," but, when the nkano was finished, and all 



126 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

should have gone to sleep, some of the girls would forget 
themselves and play: in play, they talked aloud: the 
loud talking grew to a laugh: and sometimes it went on 
to a quarrel, and ended in a fight. But, long before the 
talking became loud, I had always stopped. I valued 
my good name too much to be struck, and so I tried not 
to deserve punishment. 

When the noise would grow so great as that our Mis- 
tress could hear it, she or a teacher would come to the 
door and ask for silence. If she was not promptly 
obeyed, and had to come again, she would enter with 
whip and light, and punished those who were talking 
or making other noise. As she entered the dormitory, 
she would ask, "Who is it making this noise?" It was 
generally some of the worst and noisiest who would re- 
ply, "We all," so that the innocent might be punished 
with their guilty selves. Their apparent goodness in 
making confession was really a mean desire to have 
others suffer with them. Then I would say, "No! not 
I. Who was heard me speak since we stopped our 
inkano?" Then our Mistress would say tome, "If you 
were not taking part in it, Janie, tell me who were." 
Sometimes I would tell; and then the punishment was 
given only to the noisy one, and the innocent escaped. 

One night the noise became so bad that, when Mrs. 
Walker came into the room, she did not stop to ask who 
was who, but began at once to strike right and left with 
her hard bamboo whip. Among the rest, a sharp blow 
fell on my bare arm; and in pain and indignation at the 
degradation, I cried out, "Boo-o-o! I was not one of 
them. Why did you strike me? You shall see to-mor- 
row that I will not work; r ffor I shall run away! " 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 127 

Next morning, I did not touch my work of washing 
the breakfast plates; and I left the house. I knew the 
place where Ma Walker kept the whip hidden. I went 
and took it, that it should not strike me again. With 
it in my hand, I started slowly down the road to the vil- 
lages, intending to throw it away in the high grass. 

As I went out, I said to my friend Sarah Dorsey, "I 
am running away." She laughed, and thought I was 
only joking. For, she and everybody knew that "the 
Harrington girls" (my younger sister Hattie and I) did 
not dare to run away; our father Sonie John Harring- 
ton had laid on us a law that he would punish us severely 
if we did. I too knew I was saying it only as a threat, 
for I knew my father would punish me and send me back, 
if I disobeyed him. So, instead of fleeing rapidly, I 
went slowly, very slowly, and swinging the whip from 
side to side. My companions, the larger girls, stood 
laughing on the veranda. It was strange to them; for 
they had never seen me misbehave, or do anything of 
the kind. They called after me to come back; but I 
answered, "No! I'm going." I heard them call out to 
Ma Walker, "Fando has run away! Shall we go after 
her and catch her? But Ma Walker said, "No! As she 
has gone because of me, myself will go after her and 
catch her." I heard the gate slam; and looking behind 
I saw Ma Walker coming, and the girls laughing. I 
hastened my steps. Then Mrs. Walker quickened hers. 
But she was not strong and could not run, because of 
her weak back. She called out to me, "Janie! wait for 
me!" I would turn around and say, "Ande? (What 
for?) " "But wait! " I would pretend anger, " Ugh! no! " 



128 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

Then she would command, " Janie! " and I would laugh, 
and go on walking. 

She followed, but did not run; took a few steps, 
stopped, shook out her dress; and would continue to call, 
"Wait for me! Where are you going? What are you 
going for?" "I'm going to town! Why did you strike 
me last night?" It was so funny! She could not over- 
take me, though I did not run. I was amused to see her 
standing, and yet expecting to catch me. I had to 
laugh. I did not really intend to go to town. I stopped 
and waited for her. But before she reached me, I threw 
the whip away where she could not get it. 

Ma Walker came near me, and asked, "What are you 
going away for?" "Because you struck me last night; 
and it was not I who made the noise." I showed her 
the mark on my arm, where it still hurt me. She said, 
"As you ran from me, I came myself to catch you." 

So, I turned back with her, and we came up the path 
together. I pretending to be angry, and she looking 
as if she had accomplished something great. She told 
me to go into the house, sit down, and be a good girl. 

My companions were still standing on the veranda 
laughing at Ma Walker's slow pursuit of me, and her 
strange sort of "capture." When I saw them laughing, 
I could no longer keep up the pretense of anger, and I 
joined with them. They asked me whether I had really 
meant flight; for, they knew of my father's strict law. 
I said, "Yes; because my father is not at home; he is 
on a journey up the river. And no one else in town 
would dare touch me." Then I asked them in joke 
whether they had noticed how fast Ma Walker had "run ; " 
and how quickly she had "caught" me. Then I imi- 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 129 

tated her few steps and a stop, and again a few steps and 
a stop, and her call for me to "wait " till she could "catch " 
me. We all had a hearty laugh about it. Nothing was 
said or done about my having neglected my work, or 
having left the yard without permission; or having 
thrown away the whip. 

But Ma Walker seemed to think that really she had 
caught me and had brought me back. 



130 tales out of school. 

Tale, No. 18. 
Njiwo Bites the Teacher. 

THE position of the young woman, Fando, in the 
Baraka household, as intimated in Tales No. 16 
and No. 17 was an exceptional one. There were 
other pupils, waifs, or poor, who had no other home but 
the Mission. That they should give their labor as nominal 
"sons" and "daughters" (though actual servants) un- 
paid beyond their food and clothing, was natural. But 
they generally rendered such aid unwillingly, and were 
apt to be looked down upon by the other children as 
"slaves." But she was a rich man's daughter, not in 
need of a home or of support by the Mission. Her 
father, in friendship for Rev. Dr. Bushnell, and in desire 
that his daughter should grow up clear of the some- 
what heathen influences of his village, had given her, a 
child of only four years of age, to Mrs. Bushnell to keep 
and train, until she should finally return to him for 
(every African woman's destiny) marriage. The school 
had not to her, the view-point of almost all the other 
girls, i. e., that of a convent, from which they hoped some 
day to secape. It was her home. She was proud of it. 
She honored, respected and really loved most of the 
missionaries, especially "Father" and "Mother" Bush- 
nell. For their sakes, she gave affection, or at least 
respectful obedience, to each successive new missionary, 
as from time to time, sickness or furlough removed the 
older ones. She grew up in the school, through all the 
grades of classes until she was in the highest, during 
which time she was used as monitress for the lower. 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 131 

Subsequently, she was made assistant teacher; and 
finally, though not twenty-five years of age, she was 
employed as Matron. Others, her juniors, finished 
their course, and went back to their villages for marriage. 
She remained, her education being carried on farther 
than that of other girls; but, with many interruptions. 
For, the successive missionary ladies found no hired 
servant as skillful, prompt, careful and efficient as this 
unpaid "daughter." She was therefore regularly called 
out of school for the tasteful setting of the dinner-table 
and other household arrangements. She always re- 
sponded without complaint; though the inconsiderate 
assumptions of some later younger missionaries would 
have justified complaint, and even refusal. So trusted 
was she by the ladies in charge that she was never pun- 
ished if she took liberties not allowed to the other girls, 
or if, in the exercise of her own judgment, she did her 
work in a manner different from what she had been told. 
Her modifications were generally improvements. She 
was allowed much authority over the younger children; 
her characteristic kindness prevented her ever abusing 
that authority. Her intimate relations with the mis- 
sionaries also allowed her to offer advice or even make 
respectful protest. But she did not over-step the line 
of filial obedience and respect. All this will explain 
how it could be that she was allowed to act as she did in 
the denouement of this Tale. 



Her younger sister Njiwo was a strong, but less noble 
character; though, to strangers, her personality and 
vivacity were more attractive. Notably her affection 
was intense for those she loved, and to them she was 



132 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

demonstrative; but she had an uncontrollable temper 
toward those she disliked. She liked and had been 
obedient to most of the missionaries; but, in common 

with all the girls, she could not endure Miss X , the 

teacher of the school who happened to be at Baraka during 
the superintendency of a certain missionary and his wife. 

One morning, Njiwo had a quarrel about some matter 
with that teacher, in which she felt that the latter was 
unjust. I do not remember what it was, nor how it 
began, nor who was originally in the wrong. Possibly 
Njiwo was. But, it is true that none of the girls re- 
spected Miss X , who was of a disposition which 

school-children, the world over, consider "sneaking." 
She was constantly exacting. She was always seeking 
occasions to blame the children. She did not under- 
stand native nature, and often unwisely ran into diffi- 
culty that, with a little tact, could have been avoided. 
She had little control of the girls; for, she did not im- 
press them with dignity. Her government was mostly 
by the rod. 

So that day, when Njiwo went into school with the 
other girls, she entered with heart embittered by the 
morning's difficulty; and, in a state of mind rare in her 
usually amiable disposition, she determined to behave 
badly. 

The opening exercises were the recitation of Scripture 
verses in concert, the pupils all standing. Njiwo's 
tactics were to annoy the teacher by not rising in time. 
Then, when bidden to rise, she obeyed but slowly, and 
immediately sat down again. This delayed the opening. 
When finally she had risen, she stood defiantly in her 
place, and produced confusion by deliberately joining in 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 133 

the verse recitation out of time. Others of the pupils 
caught the infection of insubordination, and increased 
the confusion by each taking up the verse in separate 
time ; with coughs, laughter and pretense at protests and 
quarrels among themselves, as if they were trying to assist 
in quelling disorder. The elder sister Fando was present 
during this disorder. She did not contribute; nor was 
she called upon by the teacher to assist in repressing it. 
Just at that juncture, she was summoned to the dwelling- 
house to assist the missionary lady in cutting out some 
dresses, and therefore was not present during the subse- 
quent acts. 

The teacher, seeing that Njiwo was the real cause of 
the momentarily increasing hubbub, advanced toward 
her and slapped her face. This only exasperated the 
high-spirited girl. Njiwo seized her hand, and suddenly 
bit her on the arm in the muscle above the elbow. The 
sharp closely-set teeth sank together through the tex- 
ture of Miss X 's dress, and into the skin, from which 

a few drops of blood began to trickle. 

This almost unparalleled act startled the school to 
momentary silence, which, however, was followed by 
worse confusion as the teacher abandoned the floor; 
and leaving the school-room, went to the dwelling-house 
to have the other lady apply some medicine to the wound. 

Fando saw Miss X coming with troubled face and 

sleeve rolled up above the red mark, and she innocently 

exclaimed, "O! Miss X ! has a ikorwe (centipede) 

bitten you?" Miss X replied, "Yes! but your 

sister is the centipede." Fando then began to suspect 
the state of the case ; and while the elder lady went with 
Miss X to apply carbolic acid on the broken skin, 



134 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

she hasted to the school-room, told her sister what Miss 

X had said, and bade her tell her the truth of the 

affair. Njiwo admitted that she had bitten deliberately 
and purposely; but, so facetiously did she describe the 
teacher's exasperating ways and the njuke (trouble) she 
was always making, that the elder sister was amused at 
the younger one's graphic mimicry, at the same time 
that she condemned her and pitied the teacher. The 
biting was all wrong, however vexatious the teacher may 
have been. 

Miss X returned to the school-room; and, with 

the assistance of Fando's presence, there was no more 
confusion. As soon as school closed, the latter went to 
the dwelling-house to set the missionary dinner-table. 
The other girls having gone out for their play, the 
teacher detained Njiwo at the school-house, called her 
into the Girls' bed-room (which was under the same 
roof) and attempted to whip her for the biting. The 
girl's passion had subsided, and she probably would have 
submitted to some other form of punishment, but not to 
that of whipping; and she successfully resisted. Miss 

X then tried to drag her to the dwelling-house in 

order that the other lady might help in the subjugation 

of the rebel. Failing in this attempt, Miss X sent a 

little girl to summon the other lady, who promptly came 
accompanied by her husband. Njiwo saw that the three 
would be too many for her, and losing all her own ordi- 
nary self-control and respect for the two older mission- 
aries, she nerved herself for a fight, and called on the 
other girls to help her. But they stood in a frightened 
group outside the house, and dared neither to come to 
her aid nor to carry information elsewhere. 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 135 

Njiwo fought desperately, but was forced to the floor 
by main strength of the three missionaries. Doubtless, 
she deserved a very severe punishment; but it was un- 
wise to inflict it while in her enraged and utterly irra- 
tional state. Also, the mode adopted was undignified, 
and not such as would impress respect for authority. 
It was a sudden physical force exercised against one 
temporarily helpless. The outcome would have been 
better had there been delay until her passion had sub- 
sided, and an appeal made to the moral and religious 
side of what two of the other three knew was a very in- 
telligent, high-spirited, and naturally loving and affec- 
tionate nature. 

She was thrown face downward ; Miss X held her 

legs from struggling; the missionary sat bodily on her 
shoulders with his hands crushing down her arms to the 
floor, while his wife, with one hand forced down the girl's 
hips, and with the other rapidly applied a rod all over 
her person. The girl was unable to move, helpless to 
resist, and with difficulty could breathe ; her mouth being 
pressed to the floor. 

While this was going on, her sister, ignorant of it all, 
was attending happily to her table-work. A young man, 
Owondo, one of the oldest pupils in the Boys' School, who 
was one of her admirers, and who had offered her mar- 
riage, came to the door of the dining-room, and ex- 
citedly and exaggeratingly said, "Do you stand there 
working for white people, the while they are killing your 
sister? Don't you know your sister is being beaten to 
death?" 

She caught the alarming words without measuring 
them, left her work, and flew to the school-house. Her 



136 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

sister was the first to hear her coming, so occupied were 
the three missionaries with the whipping. Njiwo gasped 
to her, "I'm dying here!" (It was a common racial 
exaggeration.) Her sister's moans, the very name of 
death, the shock at the sight of the undignified posi- 
tions of those whom she held in sincere respect, and 
indignation at the violent form of even a deserved pun- 
ishment, all flung over her a flood of rare anger that 
swept away her deference to authority. With one swift 

strong pressure of one hand she flung aside Miss X , 

and with the other the missionary. But even in that 
indignant moment, she so guarded that her hand, that, 
however heavily it was lent, it gave only a push not a 
blow. And she refrained from at all touching the wife, 
who, startled by the sudden apparition, had ceased 
whipping, and stood erect. 

When she was dashing into the room, and saw the 
shameful state of affairs, she had exclaimed, "Do you 
know whose daughter you are striking? Do you forget 
whose sister it is that you are killing." (She really 
thought her sister was injured; for she lay moaning and 
seemed unable to rise.) The three stood silent, appar- 
ently ashamed, and looking at each other as if they 
were the culprits; and did not resent her rebuke as she 
said, "Is this the way you do, just because I was not 
here to control my sister? Will you try it on me some 
day?" 

They made a faint reply. And all went out, and 
scattered to their several places for their noon meal. 
She was not bidden to be silent, when, during the after- 
noon, she laid aside her almost invariable defence of 
missionaries, and murmured among the other girls about 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 137 

the morning's doings. And nothing was done to her for 
her interference. Nor was anything further said or 
done to Njiwo, and the whole affair was dropped. 

Perhaps the lady and her husband were conscious 
that the intense feeling aroused in the hearts of the 
entire school, both girls and boys, needed only a little 
more severity to be driven into open rebellion and a 

stampede. They certainly were aware that Miss X 

was not free from blame ; for, on previous occasions they 
had been annoyed at being drawn into her difficulties, 
in which, while formally sustaining her before the pupils, 
they had privately told her she was at fault. They knew 
Njiwo's character, and could have avoided arousing her 
tiger-like desperation. On the part of the school, they 
really loved the elder lady and her husband. No race 
forgives more magnanimously than does the Negro. In 
their affection they forgave. And, with racial mercur- 
iality, they seemed soon to forget. The discipline of the 
school lost nothing, in that the missionaries seemed to 
have bowed to a native sentiment. The rather, much 
was gained for the establishment of mutual respect, and 
the school went on peacefully. 

Njiwo, the central figure of this Tale, no longer lives. 
Though she became a grandmother, she retained her 
old-time vivacity and sprightly step ; an active Christian, 
and consistent member of the church; friendly to every 
new missionary, and respected by them all; just as 
devoted as ever when she loved, and capable of ani- 
mosity if crossed. 



138 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

Tale, No. 19. 
Onanga: An Unexpected Treasure. 

SOMETIMES children were brought to school quite 
early, even though they were very young, espe- 
cially if their parents happened to be very friendly 
with the missionaries. Others were brought in when 
they were quite large girls. So that sometimes the 
missionaries objected to receiving them, because they 
were too large, and fearing lest they had become too 
much possessed of native customs, or would not be able 
readily to obey rules, or would be too slow at learning 
books. There was always some particular reason for 
the coming of these big girls. For the coming of the 
little ones, — it was enough that they were brought by 
their parents, whether the children themselves desired 
it or not. But, with these big ones, there was always a 
desire of their own. Perhaps they were related to some 
girl already in school who wished them as companions. 
Perhaps they had been sent to the school-yard with food, 
or on some errand, or had come only for a little visit. 
And, after becoming somewhat acquainted with the other 
girls, or having joined in their play, they thought things 
were nice, and felt like remaining at school. Then they 
would go and ask their parents to send them, giving as a 
reason that they had friends in school. If their parents 
were willing, they would come and ask the missionaries 
to take them. The missionaries would take a look at the 
girl; would have a talk together by themselves; and 
sometimes would conclude to receive her. Sometimes, 
even if they did not approve of taking her, still they 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 139 

would consent, through the girl's pleading and anxiety 
to stay. Her relatives in the school would plead for her, 
"Please take her; she is my cousin," or young aunt, or 
other relative. Once there was one of these big girls 
named Onanga brought from across the Bay. Most of 
the time when such girls were taken, in going into the 
school, they had to begin with the lowest class in A. B. C. 
They had to sit on the benches with the smallest children ; 
and this they did not like; for, they felt ashamed of it. 
They did not understand why, even if they were not 
in the same book with the big girls, they could not be 
allowed to sit in the same seats with them. 

So this Onanga came to ask to enter the school. I 
was assistant and was interested in her. She was not a 
relative of mine, but she was a cousin of my cousins 
Lizzie and Emma. 

At first the missionaries thought the girl was too large, 
and said they could not take her. She was very much 
disappointed when refused ; because she had come happy 
and laughing, in full hopes of being taken. She pleaded 
very much for herself ; and asked her cousins to help her. 
The Mistress said, "You are too big; you will not be able 
to learn to read." She said, " I will. I will try. And I 
will be a good girl. So, please let me come!" The 
Mistress was surprised at her earnestness, and at her 
begging, and had to consent. 

So Onanga was very glad, and thanked the Mistress. 
And she began to ask questions right away, about school- 
duties and rules and everything. Next day, in the 
school-room she started to go to the place of the big First 
Class where her cousins were, to sit with them. But 
she was told that her place was in one of the front seats 



140 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

with the little girls. She was surprised. However, 
she laughed and said, "Am I indeed to go with these little 
things here? All right! I came to learn. I'll try!" 
Turning to the little ones, she added, "You'll see I'll leave 
you all behind!" 

She kept her word; she tried her best; she had her 
eyes and ears open all the time, to learn and know all 
she could. While on the alphabet, learning the letters 
along with the little ones, she would listen to the B-a-Ba 
spelling-class on the next seat behind her. While re- 
peating her own lesson, A. B. C, in an undertone to 
herself, she was following aloud their spelling of B, a,-Ba. 
When school time was over, she would return to the 
school-room, take her book, and sitting down with it, 
would call to whoever was^ passing by, "Come! show me 
this lesson." She would say, "I was given such-and- 
such a number of letters to prepare. I already know 
them. Please show me some others for to-morrow's 
recitation." So, in a few days, she had finished the 
alphabet. Then she was immediately advanced to the 
lowest spelling-class. There she did the same way; 
spelling to herself in her own one syllables, but listening 
to the next class behind her that was spelling in two 
syllables. She tried even to pick up our English songs, 
besides spelling in the native hymns. 

So she went on about everything. Obedient to the 
teacher, constantly trying to learn. Very cheerful, 
good-natured and well-behaved among the other girls. 
She taught them some new native plays. As she was 
a big girl, and knew many legends and fairy-tales, she 
gave long narrations of them to the other girls, which 
pleased them very much. All the girls and mission- 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 141 

aries liked her exceedingly, for she was always full of 
fun, light-hearted and laughing good-naturedly. She 
learned to read very rapidly. But , as she was so large when 
she came, it did not take many years to call her a woman. 
Within two years, her father came to take her away, 
to give her in marriage. She did not like this at all, 
though the man to whom she was to be given was a pleas- 
ant young man. She murmured and cried, saying, "I 
don't want to go at all! " All the girls missed her when 
she left. She told us she had made up her mind to run 
away from her husband, if she got a chance, and would 
come back to school. But she could not accomplish 
it, as her father's house was across the Bay on its west- 
ern side, and her husband's, though on the Baraka side 
of the Bay, was distant ten miles farther up, at Ovendo 
Point. After she had been there quite a while, almost 
a year, as the missionaries were still interested in her, 
they heard that Onanga had sent word that whenever 
there was time in vacation, she wished that the Mistress 
and the girls might visit her at Ovendo. For, it was 
the missionaries' custom, twice a year, to take us on an 
excursion or pic-nic, either across the Bay, or somewhere 
else. So this time, the Mistress decided on Ovendo, 
and began to get ready, preparing food and every needed 
thing. Then she took us by boat to Ovendo Point. 
When we got there, we found Onanga and her husband, 
and their baby-boy a few months old, their first-born. 
We had not heard of its birth. Onanga was very much 
delighted. As soon as she saw us coming, she ran down 
to the beach, shouting and laughing with joy, just the 
same merry Onanga as when at school. Then the Mis- 
tress, surprised, said, "Why! Onanga! Is this my 



142 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

Onanga and with a baby?" Then the husband was 
pleased, and said, "Yes! still your Onanga." He was 
very much gratified at our arrival. He seemed proud 
that his wife owned so many and so important visitors. 
All the children gathered around Onanga; and each one 
wanted to fondle her baby. The husband took his net 
and went along the beach; and soon came back with 
fresh fish. And Onanga cooked them nicely for us. 
After we had eaten, she took us all a walk to adjacent 
villages; then to the beach; then to bathe in the Bay 
at a quiet cove around the Point. This the children 
enjoyed very much. The hours passed rapidly; and 
when we all had returned to the village of Ovendo, the 
Mistress thought it was time to start back to Baraka. 
Onanga begged the missionaries to stay over night till 
the next day. But this was considered impossible, as 
preparations or word for that had not been left at Ba- 
raka. So we had to go. Onanga led the children down 
to the beach, to see them off, with loud good-byes, 
of "Mbiambieni! mbiambieni! come again." But the 
missionaries did not find another opportunity to pay a 
second visit there. For, we took alternate vacations, 
on different sides of the Bay, or at the plantations; or 
at Anwondo three miles down the Bay on the Baraka 
side; or at Nomba three miles up the Bay between Ba- 
raka and Ovendo. There did not pass many years, when 
we heard that Onanga's husband was dead; and she 
went back across the Bay to her own people. Then, 
after a while she married a second time, across the Bay, 
where we had no frequent chance to visit her. With 
this husband she had two children, a boy and a girl. 
After a while, this husband died also. She was married 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 143 

a third time, not by her own choice, but because she was 
inherited by a relative of the second husband. 

She did not live many years with this third one. For, 
she sickened when she went with him on his trade-jour- 
ney up the river. She died, leaving her three children, 
the oldest of whom was not sufficiently old to take care 
of the other two. They stayed with Onanga's mother. 
But the youngest boy did not long survive his mother. 
After a few years, the oldest boy died. And there re- 
mains only the daughter, who has never been sent to 
school. 



PART III. 
IN THE CHURCH 



Kabinda: an Ignoble Life. 

ABOUT the years 1845-50, during the early days 
L of the church at Libreville, while it was a Con- 
gregational Society belonging to the A. B. C. 
F. M., there was among the first converts a young man, 
by name, Kabinda. Following the habit of all half- 
civilized native African men, he adopted also an English 
name, "Moore." He belonged to a prominent family, 
and therefore was held in much respect socially. jj e 
was well educated, speaking English readily, and there- 
fore was valued as an assistant in the Mission, and was 
sought for as a clerk by foreign traders. He was mar- 
ried to a young woman, "Jenny," who also had been 
trained in the Baraka school. They both were church 
members. Though born as heathen, they both had 
early been placed under civilized and Christian influ- 
ences, so that it was easier for them to maintain a 
correct life than for a convert from heathenism, whose 
years had long been steeped in evil habits. He was 
honored in the church, and was elected as one of the 
three "Committee men" (somewhat equivalent to a 
Presbyterian Eldership) in control of the religious in- 
terests of the Society. 

After about nine years, there came a time when he 
grew careless in his Christian duties. While still hold- 
ing office, and acting as judge of others, he was secretly 

(i44) 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 145 

planning to break away from church control. But 
there was nothing known or even suspected positively 
against him, except that Mission friends began to be 
anxious about him, and kindly warned him against his 
apparent coldness in spiritual life. Also, he had do- 
mestic dissensions. He made a complaint against his 
wife, and she against him. The complaints grew, and 
took form into actual charges, of her drinking liquor 
and being unfaithful to him; and of his (while yet in 
Mission service) accepting larger pay in foreign trade, 
with all its (then) inevitably associated evils of liquor- 
selling and Sabbath-breaking. 

They were both suspended, and he was degraded from 
office. The Congregational Society and Mission both 
acted with great leniency to him. For, even after his 
wife had been finally excommunicated, he, with his 
greater offences, was for two more years allowed to hold 
a suspended relation; the hope being that he would 
repent, and his services be saved to the Mission. He did 
not. Finally, after some ten years of church connection, 
he was cut off; his open trading in liquor being followed 
by his going into polygamy with a second woman. 
Then began years of great outward prosperity that 
seemed, to the weak faith of other church-members, 
to discount the Bible truth that the wicked shall not 
prosper. In his fall, others followed him, expecting to 
grow as great commercially as he was. A deep injury 
was thus done to the church. Many members looked 
lightly on the sin of liquor-trading, for the sake of the 
money that was in it. The very members of the Mission 
at that Station seemed to the public to lend their coun- 
tenance to his early success. Instead of turning him a 



146 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

cold shoulder or otherwise showing public condemnation 
of his course (as they did of erring women) they ad- 
dressed him in terms and with manner of respect as 
"Mr. Moore." The traders rejoiced in their acquisition 
of him, and in the success of their efforts to draw him 
away from the Mission. He was honored in the com- 
mercial community; and the missionaries joined in this 
outward honoring of him, by the marked difference of 
their reception of him, when he happened to come to 
them on business, over the slight manner of their recep- 
tion of better but poorer people. He added to his num- 
ber of wives. Other families sought to have their 
daughters married to him. He was rich. He was 
entrusted by traders with thousands of dollars. Being 
•comparatively honest, and not a drinker of the liquor 
he sold to others, he grew in power and trust, the while 
that weaker men who had followed him in falling from 
the church, slipped into dishonesty, drunkenness, debt 
and prison. He bought many slaves; erected a large 
framed foreign-built house finer than the plain Mission- 
house; and made a display of furniture, mirrors and 
cheap showy pictures, and a retinue of attendants. 

One check came to him, as from the hand of God: 
his first born and beloved son and chosen heir, a lad, 
was killed by a shark. He never recovered from the 
blow ; but he did not humble himself, nor repent of his 
sins. His wives bore him other sons; but they were 
children of his polygamous days and (some of them) 
were the children of slave wives ; and of not all of them 
was he the father. (In native polygamy and slavery, a 
child's paternity is often uncertain.) He was never 
fond of them as he had been of that one son. His two 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 147 

most attractive daughters were sent to the Baraka 
school and grew up there to young womanhood; and, 
under school-girl sympathy, united with the church. 
In which act, he encouraged them. It was a sop to 
please the missionary, and, perhaps, to quiet his own 
conscience. They were proud of their father's wealth 
and position. That he was a polygamist did not shame 
them. (Indeed, polygamy, though of course not prac- 
tised, was not seriously objected to, by the majority of 
the native church-members.) They did not see that, 
as far as actions went, he was at all disrespected for 
that by any of the foreign community, not even by the 
Baraka missionaries. 

All these slaves and wives cost him much in their pur- 
chase and maintenance. His position demanded of him 
frequent largesse to his numerous mothers-in-law and 
other marriage connections, and to the crowd of idlers 
that gathered around all chiefs of families. By such 
largesse he fell into debt to his trader employers. They 
cast their lustful eyes on his two young lady daughters. 
And he sold them to them as temporary "wives." His 
goods-chests were again filled; and his debts wiped out. 
Having more than ten women himself, it did not much 
twinge his deadened conscience that his daughters should 
be the one wife of white men, though the relation was a 
peculiar and uncertain one, in its duration. To the 
young women, the position was gratifying; it gave them 
ease, and station, and wealth. Really, as far as morality 
was concerned, their "marriage" without ceremony or 
contract was felt by them to be as binding as any church- 
recognized native marriage, or even as many mission 
marriages made with church ceremony. For, all these 



148 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

ceremonies were often disregarded and the marriage 
broken, when the parties for even slight causes chose to 
do so. These young women were faithful each to her 
chosen ''husband," and the men were faithful to them 
as long as they stayed in Africa. There was the damning 
point in their act. The young women were called 
"wife" and treated as such by the men. But these men 
knew that some day they would return to Europe, and 
would abandon them. They were only "temporary" 
wives. The Mission unjustly called them a woman's 
vilest name. They did not deserve it. They were 
modest and faithful. Germany would recognize them 
as "morganatic" wives. The United States would 
recognize them as "common-law" wives. The church 
that had allowed their father for so long a suspended 
relation, did not allow them even that, but hasted to 
excommunicate them. And still the missionaries re- 
ceived the father in their parlor; but met the young 
women out of doors only with icy rebuke. 
. Years passed on. His white employers died or left 
the country. New ones rated him at a lower value. He 
was again sinking into debt, while keeping up an expen- 
sive establishment, and still apparently wealthy. He 
was beginning to lose his vigor and skill in trade. Profits 
were less than formerly. Perhaps he began to fear that 
God's controversy with him might come to a sudden and 
destructive end. Whatever the cause, I am willing to 
think it was not for hypocrisy, that, about 1872, he began 
to attend church services; and, one day, in prayer- 
meeting, rose with confession of sin and request for 
prayer in his behalf. It was a day of rejoicing at 
Baraka. The great man, the rich man, the prominent 
citizen, the long wanderer, was returning!! The rejoic- 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 149 

ing began before he had commenced to disentangle him 
self from his evil surroundings. His confession was not 
complete, nor his attitude sufficiently humble. He 
still was selling liquor, and retaining his Polygamy. Of 
course, he promised that he would divest himself of these 
after the church should again accept him. But he was 
holding on to them till he should see whether the mission- 
ary would allow him a certain condition. That condi- 
tion was, that, of his many wives, he should not be re- 
quired to retain his originally -married Jenny, but should 
be allowed to chose a younger and more attractive one. 
I do not know how complete would have been his return 
had this condition been assented to. Perhaps it might 
have been allowed; for, both of them had broken their 
original marriage vow again and again. His condition 
was refused. And he stepped back into his sinful life. 

For a few more years, he kept up with the current, and 
retained at least outward signs of wealth, and a comfort- 
able though reduced commercial position. 

But a change came. Years were wrecking his vigor. 
One of those two daughters died. Several of his sons 
died. His women ceased to find him attractive; and 
one after another of them deserted him. His long habit 
of debt led him to dishonest methods of purchase and 
payment. He lost the confidence of the white traders; 
instead of entrusting him with thousands, they either 
refused him, or gave him only hundreds. 

Still his family name was retained in honor by his 
tribe. As older claimants to the Family "Throne" died 
off, he fell heir to the "Kingship" and was recognized 
by the local French government as one of the native 
Chiefs whose advice was occasionally asked in settlement 
of minor native questions. The name of "King" made 



150 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

him very proud, though his fine dwelling was falling into 
decay, and his slaves had run away, and there were left 
but few signs of "greatness," except his expensive suits 
of foreign clothing. His "Kingship" was very nominal. 
He was only one of four or five native Chiefs, who, in 
virtue of their Family (not personal) prominence, were 
called "Kings;" and he was least among them. Only 
one of those five really had any power. 

As one after another of the earthly possessions, for 
which he had been defiling his soul during over thirty 
years, fell away from him, conscience, or fear, or perhaps 
a hope of help from the Mission that had dealt so gently 
with him, made him again, about 1892, repeat the 
public confession of sin which he had insincerely made 
twenty years before. It was easy now for him to come 
without conditions. For, as to Polygamy, he had no 
wives to put away. They had all died or left him (even 
Jenny) except one of the younger ones whom it suited 
him to keep. It was no credit to him that he was no 
longer a polygamist. Polygamy had abandoned him, 
not he it. He was no longer a liquor-seller ; not by choice, 
but because white traders no longer would entrust him 
with the charge of even a sub-trading house. 

Again the missionaries at Baraka (which in 1871 had 
become Presbyterian) seemed to set a premium on male 
church wandering, by not only (as was right) receiving 
him with open arms, but by giving him at once entire 
trust and confidence, which he had justly forfeited, and of 
which the traders who best knew him no longer con- 
sidered him worthy. It seemed almost as if he was 
regarded as doing the church a favor in returning to it. 
But, in his return, there was no humility of the Prodigal, 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 151 

though the fatted calf was being killed for him. While 
it was proper to receive him, as a penitent back again to 
church membership, his more than thirty years of fla- 
grant sin should have subjected him to a test of at least 
a year. But, astonishing to relate, he was given no time 
test. Not only was he at once restored to church member- 
ship, but notwithstanding his wandering, he was honored 
almost immediately by being put into his old office of 
Elder ! Of course, this was done by the formality of a vote 
of the church members: But, they are accustomed to 
vote as they are desired by the white Pastor. Doubtless 
they voted willingly; for, their appreciation of the 
sinfulness of his sin was almost as slight as his own. 
Their vote showed how slightly public opinion of evil 
customs had risen above the level of heathenism. The 
man whose evil example had misled scores of young men, 
was, while still enjoying money that had been made in 
sinful ways, set up in the church as guide, teacher, exam- 
ple, leader and judge of humble Christians who had 
quietly been keeping their way all the thirty-three years 
he had been rioting in sin! 

This was the status of affairs when I was transferred to 
the charge of the Gaboon church in 1893. I had never 
come in real contact with Kabinda. I had lived in 
other parts of the Mission-field, and only casually met 
him on my occasional visits to Libreville. I knew of his 
history from statements of natives and of fellow-mission- 
aries and traders, and especially from the church records. 
The two missionaries who had foisted him into the Elder- 
ship were gone, and I accepted what I found. I had to 
recognize him as an officer in the church; but I could 
not respect him, nor did I believe he was sincere. His 



152 TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 

exhortations in the prayer-meetings came with poor 
grace from one who was still holding the pecuniary profits 
of the sale of his daughters. The still living one of the 
two, after passing from one hand to another as "tem- 
porary" wife, had at last become deserving of the vile 
name by which the missionaries, (especially the female 
ones) had originally called her, and from which she 
would probably have been saved had they accorded her 
a tithe of the charity they spent on her more guilty 
father. His warnings to young men came with no force. 
Full half of those young men were ready to take all the 
risk of sin, sickness, prison or death, with the chance to 
enjoy as he had enjoyed, and finally to be honored as 
he was being honored. He had served both God and 
Mammon, and, in the eyes of most of the community, 
had gained from both. They forgot, or did not appre- 
ciate what he had lost in the rust that sin brings to the 
soul, in the evil done to others that can never be wiped 
out, and in the wasted ability that could have made him 
a useful and efficient worker in the building up of the 
Kingdom of Christ, which he really had done so much 
to pull down. 

While I had to accept him officially as a member of the 
Session, and gave him the ordinary respect due to the 
office of Elder, I did not in any other way dignify him. 
I never in discussing church matters with him, addressed 
him, or spoke of him as "king." He was somewhat 
offensive in his assumptions. Being a few years my 
senior, he took occasion to speak sarcastically of the 
"young men of the present" as compared with the "old 
men of his day." 



TALES OUT OF SCHOOL. 153 

It would have been amusing, if it had not been so 
marked by pitiful vanity, to see the old man's dressing 
of himself in youthful attire, with low pump-shoes, and 
carrying a stylish cane. 

He still tried to do a little trading in an honest way, 
among the adjacent Fang tribe up river. On one of these 
journeys, he was exposed to wet, which brought on a 
pneumonia; of which he died in 1895, three years after 
his restoration to the church. 

At his funeral services, I read the usual burial form for 
the Christian dead. But I added no words of eulogy, as 
the assembled non-christian crowd seemed to expect, for 
" the King." His place in the Kingdom of Heaven it was 
not for me to assign. But I was not willing to add special 
honor to the man who had done so little for the Kingdom 
— the evil of whose example will never be removed — 
and the turning of whose life for possible good into 
actual badness, I do not cease to regret. So much was 
wasted ! 



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